


The Stranger

by Crystal_Stars



Series: The Perseverant [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Asgore tries to be a good dad, Curiosity, Dreams and Nightmares, Encouragement, Family Dynamics, Finding a place in the world, Foreshadowing, Guilt, Handplates Backstory, Inspired by the stories of Undertale and Handplates, Lots of places to explore, Magic, Ouch, POV First Person, Past physical abuse, Perseverance vs. Determination, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reminders of past pain, Resets, Self-Hatred, Sibling Love, Some Friendships, Sometimes cute things happen, Suspicions, papyrus is a precious cinnamon roll, part 2 of 3, past emotional/psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-16 12:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 173,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14811444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystal_Stars/pseuds/Crystal_Stars
Summary: In the aftermath of escaping Dr. Gaster's lab, Krista just wants to move on and find a new life for herself in the Underground. But surviving in a world full of monsters becomes more challenging than she expects, especially when a certain golden flower decides to make her new life a form of torture she's never endured.





	1. A New World

**Author's Note:**

> So if this is your first time finding this story, then I highly recommend you first read Zarla's amazing comic, Handplates (which you can find here: https://zarla.deviantart.com/gallery/57456341/Handplates) and Part 1 of this story, The Experiment. If you've read all that, then welcome back! Thanks for continuing to follow this story! While there will still be some similarities and connections to the comic in this part, this story is going to be moving farther away as it progresses. As I've established before, there are many changes/additions to the world of Undertale in this story to fit the way I want it to be constructed. While I do keep several facts as they are presented in the game, there are also other details that I've decided to change.  
> I hope you will enjoy this version of the Undertale world that I've constructed, as this part will dive into the creation of friendships and exploring the Underground!

My eyes slowly drift open to blinding light, forcing me to cover them for a few moments. Everything aches and trembles, as if I’ve been thrown through a wall.

What… happened?

Where… am I?

My eyes adjust to a room that seems… familiar. The dark gray bridge is warm below me as I push myself up into a sitting position. The room is lit by a light below, and I see a liquid shifting through shades of color. I look up and see levels of bridges above me, dangerously structured with little to no railings. Above them is a dark ceiling with the faintest shimmer of light.

I press a hand to my forehead and look to my right, noticing the black duffel bag that Mable and I had prepared for our escape.

My throat tightens when the memories hit me: my father used magic, he forced me to kill Mable, I killed him, and then… then I ran.

I look to my left and nearly panic when I see two skeletons lying on the bridge a few feet away from me. Their eye sockets are closed, like a person would close their eyelids. Something in the back of my mind tells me they’re good, that they are meant to be here. Magic, skeletons, monsters, it is all supposed to make sense… right?

And then everything comes crashing back into my mind.

I cry out in pain and clutch my head as memories of the past few months overload my mind. Flashes of pain, color, screams, and anger wrack my body as I try to comprehend the cause of them. This wasn’t from my father like I first think, but from someone else. The memories lead to a single destination, a single name, a single _monster_ : Gaster.

My eyes snap open and I leap up to my feet, sprinting the very short distance to the railing. I grasp the warm metal as I stare down into the shimmering liquid. There is nothing and no one in it, just an illusion of peace as the colors calmly shift.

I think over everything that happened leading up to Gaster’s fall. The elevator, Alphys’ anxiety, One’s hatred, Two’s determination, Gaster’s shock, and my sudden moment of cold indifference. I stare at the liquid, remembering that it turned black once it pulled him under. Why is it back to normal?

I look up, noticing that the shimmering light above was not there before he fell. What is that energy? Was it caused by his fall? Is it building back up for another explosion?

I look back over at the boys, they seem unharmed, thankfully. But… someone else is supposed to be here too.

My eyes widen in horror. Alphys, where is she? I scan every inch of the bridge before looking down at the few visible levels that are almost exactly underneath me. Nothing. Did she fall too when the explosion hit? Did she wake up before me and leave? My heart speeds up when I realize she probably left and told the ki-

“Oh my goodness!”

I leap back and turn to my right, towards the unfamiliar masculine voice. My body nearly seizes as my eyes try to comprehend the creature towering above me.

My best comparison would be to that of a goat, as the creature has white fur, long fluffy ears, and two pointed horns that curve back from his head. However, the comparison ends when I notice he has giant hands with short claws. I’m almost surprised to see that he has five fingers on each hand, unlike Alphys’ four.

He wears a long purple cape that covers most of his figure, but I notice what looks to be gray armor protecting him underneath the thick material. Long golden protection guards stretch across his shoulders, making him appear even larger than he actually is. They connect just below his throat by a golden circle with two wings on either side. Is this guy some sort of royal guard?

The real kicker is his blond beard, almost making him look like a goofy goat Santa Claus. If such a thing could ever exist. I also notice the blond hair on top of his head that is easily parted into two long bangs by… a crown. It’s so small, I didn’t notice it at first, but its gold shines with a red jewel in the center, declaring his wealth.

My throat tightens and I back away a step, hoping he doesn’t see the boys.

“Where did you come from, little human?”

He speaks with a kind voice, as if I’m a child he found lost in the woods; it makes me distrust him even more.

This _has_ to be the king, _Asgore_ , the ruler of the Underground. I notice the intensity of his SOUL’s power, even greater than Gaster’s.

I form a sword and hold it up in front of me, as if I can intimidate him.

“Stay away from me,” I snap, my voice sounding weaker than I would have liked.

His eyes widen in shock and he backs away a step. “My goodness, I mean no harm, little human. I didn’t know you were up here; I was just doing some checks on the Core after that very serious power outage. Poor Alphys needed a break so I offered to help her.”

Wait… what? She needed... a break?

I drop my sword and stare at him, as if his face reveals all the answers.

He gives me a soft smile, “You see, Dr. Alphys is our Royal Scientist, and she has been working very hard on a project that is nearly finished. I didn’t want her to be even more stressed out with the task of checking the Core. As a king, it is my duty to help everyone in any way I can.”

I keep staring at him. “A- are you _serious_ ,” I sputter, not believing my ears. What the _hell_ is he talking about? What kind of joke is this?

He gives me a confused expression, “Of course I’m serious, the hardships of all my pe-”

“No! I mean about Alphys, when did _she_ become the Royal Scientist?”

He takes another step back, “She- she’s always been the Royal Scientist, the first monster to ever hold that title.”

My jaw drops, “What the hell do you mean she’s _always_ been the Royal Scientist!? What about Gaster!? I thought he was!”

Gaster was… wasn’t he? Or was that girl lying to me? I should’ve known she’d try to make me look like a fool.

“I’m sorry, but who’s Gaster?” Asgore asks innocently.

I feel like the bridge has dropped out from underneath me, and I’m drowning in the shimmering liquid below.

“What do you mean ‘who’s Gaster!?’ He’s one of your scientists! The only damn skeleton who survived the war!”

He… he _has_ to be lying! Gaster knew the king; this guy is probably some sort of joke who never met him. But still, wouldn’t everyone know about the last skeleton alive? I’m suddenly not afraid to draw attention to the boys.

“I- I’m sorry little human, but you’re not making any sense. There were no surviving skeletons,” he says genuinely.

“Alright, then how do you explain _them_ ,” I snap, gesturing to the boys.

Asgore- if that’s even his name- looks over my shoulder and gasps.

“Wha- how did-”

“Yes, where did they come from, _Your Majesty_?”

He stares at them, his face frozen in shock. I stare at him, trying to gauge the authenticity of his reaction.

If Gaster had never existed, then I would have believed him...

I stare at the goat-like face for so long, I don’t even realize he’s looking back at me.

“Uh, here, how about we go to my home to discuss this some more. It is very dangerous in the Core, plus maybe a more relaxed environment will allow us to sort this out better.”

He gives me an encouraging smile before walking towards the boys. On instinct, I step in his way, my glare fixated on his honey-colored eyes.

“If you think you can try to get away with hurting them, you are _sorely_ mistaken.”

His eyes widen, “Goodness, no! I would never want to hurt them, and I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Sure, tell that to all the dead human children.”

He steps back in horror, “Who told you that?”

“They did, and I’ve learned enough to know that your facade of kindness is a lie. If you didn’t already have a Perseverant you would have killed me on the spot.”

His eyebrows furrow in sadness as I see guilt flicker in his eyes.

He sighs, looking down at his hands. “I have made mistakes in the past, and I fear I will make many more. But please, trust me when I say right here, right now, I mean no harm to you or the skeletons.”

I hate how genuine he seems, as if he truly regrets everything and is trying to make up for it by being kind to me.

“So please, allow me to carry them back to my home. I’ll make some tea and we can all discuss what has happened together.”

Sure, he’ll be quite surprised when he realizes they’ll have no idea what he’s saying.

I sigh, “Fine, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he says softly.

I step to the side, almost dropping my tense shoulders in defeat.

He cautiously approaches the boys, carefully picking up One first, and then Two. They seem so small in his arms, especially One, who was so recently filled with hatred no child should ever possess.

When I think about it, they’re not much like children, more like young adults, a few years older than me. I certainly can’t compare my experiences to theirs.

“Shall we?” Asgore asks, his voice struggling to hold a positive tone.

I nod and walk towards the elevator, pressing the “up” arrow before grabbing my duffel bag. The doors open in an instant and I walk inside.

“Oh, the button number is-”

“ _R-70_ , I know,” I say indifferently.

“Uh, yes it is. How did you know?”

I sigh as the doors close and stand to his right. “Let’s just say we have a lot to discuss.”

He nods, “Well for starters, I’m Asgore.”

“Krista.”

“That’s a lovely name.”

My eyebrows shoot up, no one has ever complimented my name. “Uh, thanks.”  

“I’m guessing you haven’t known many nice people,” he says, as if he can see straight to my soul.

“Not really, no.”

“Uhh, where am I?” I look over and see One scanning his surroundings, his expression scrunched in confusion. “What happened?” he asks no one.

“Erm, what did you say?” Asgore asks, looking down at One with an eyebrow raised.

“He’s just asking what happened,” I say confidently.

“You can understand him?”

I nod, “Like I said, there is a lot to discuss.”

Only… Asgore will need me to translate what they say. What if he doesn’t believe me when I tell him they knew Gaster too? I guess everything will have to be written then. However, if it proves to Asgore that he’s somehow forgotten a very influential person, the time will be worth it.

“Ouch, my head hurts,” Two complains, clutching his skull.

Confusion and pain, even in freedom it’s all the boys know.

“You okay?” One asks.

“I think so… where are we?” Two looks around with wide eyes.

“I dunno.”

“Uh… who are we?”

 _What_?

One looks surprised before rubbing his head, “I… dunno.”

Asgore looks to me for a translation, but I only stare at them. _How_ could they have forgotten who they are? Is it just that same confusion I had when I woke up?

The elevator doors open and we slowly walk out into the gray hallway. I keep my eyes on the boys the whole time, not missing a single word they say.

“Uh, you’re my brother aren’t you?” One asks.

“Yeah, you’re my brother, but… after that?” Two says.

“I can’t remember anything,” One squints, as if it will help bring the memories back. “This guy seems okay though,” he looks up at Asgore.

“Do you know what happened?” Two asks, looking up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t...” Asgore looks at me, “Krista?”

“I can’t speak their language, but I can write it. When we get to your home I’ll write, they’re saying some strange things.”

I squint at them, why can’t they remember anything? It didn’t take me that long for everything to resurface.

“I feel really weird,” Two says, placing a hand over his ribcage.

“Yeah, me too,” One responds with the same action.

I realize that the strength of Asgore’s SOUL has diminished my awareness of the boys’, and I try to focus on their auras, wondering if their weird feelings have to do with their connections to Gaster.

“What kinds of strange things?” Asgore asks, pulling me out of focus.

“Oh well, they… they don’t remember who they are.”

“Nothing?”

“They know that they’re brothers, and they don’t think you’re a threat. But… they don’t know anything else.”

“Why do you think that is? You know them, right?” he asks, confused.

“Well, I know them a little, but not enough to restore their memories.”

“Hmm, well hopefully you can help them remember enough.”

I’ve been so lost in our conversation that I don’t even realize we’ve passed the gray city and reached his home. There’s a fairly large courtyard leading to the entrance to his house, but it’s empty except for a pile of dark gray leaves a short distance from the center. Asgore walks around them as if they’re a sleeping dragon, and I follow to be respectful; I’m not ready to start picking fights with another authoritative figure just yet. On either side of the door to his house, two other piles of leaves form perfect squares underneath opaque windows.

I look up at the dark gray brick, almost surprised that he doesn’t have a grand castle. Although, based on all that I’ve learned about him within the past few minutes, Asgore does seem to be more of the humble type.

Above his door is a light gray plaque that I squint at to read.

_A brave king is not always wise. A foolish king is not always inconsiderate. Whether fearless or incompetent, a king must make decisions, for better or worse. Above all, his choices impact his people, and their opinions affect him. So what kind of king will he choose to be?_

Huh, I wonder if Asgore reads that every day, as if to remind himself of his failures and triumphs.

The inside of his house is just as colorless as everything else has been, with wooden floors and walls all painted a very light gray. The only spark of color to brighten the dreary sight is from a pot of golden flowers on the far left side of the main room. Other than the flowers, short wooden railing boxes off the majority of the room, leaving the rest of the space to branch off into a hallway extending to the left and right. I peer past the railing to see a flight of stairs beginning against the wall. They extend a short distance down to the left before stopping at a small standing area. Another flight connects that seems to be much longer as it descends downwards to the right, leading into darkness. In the right corner, directly across from the flowers, a small bookshelf sits as if it is a sentry for the stairs.

“Now maybe some new clothes will make you feel more at home,” Asgore says, gently setting the boys down. They stand on steady feet, as if they didn’t just survive an explosion.

Asgore leads them down the right hallway and turns left into a bedroom. I start to follow, but then stop myself, my stupid curiosity kicking in. I feel that I can trust Asgore with them, I doubt he’d hurt other monsters after all. And if he _does_ hurt them, then that just gives me enough reason to attack him. I’ll give him the chance of a trust test.

I turn to the left and walk into a room just as large as the main one; it’s not surprising that it also has a significant lack of color. My eyes immediately land on the one speck of brightness sprouting from a golden flower placed on a table towards the left side of the room. I guess he sees the flowers as the only notable color to use for decoration.

Four chairs are placed around the table, with one at each end and two next to each other on the right side, as if it was forbidden to sit on the left. I squint at them in suspicion, as if he _planned_ to have three visitors. I’m probably overthinking it, as always, but it is an oddly specific number.

On the right wall, a small fireplace is dark with a large, comfy-looking armchair next to it. To the right of the fireplace is a bookshelf even taller than me. The books’ spines vary in a rainbow of muted colors, as drab as the rest of the place. Next to the shelf is what looks to be a stand for different equipment one would use for a fireplace, but on closer inspection I see that there’s gardening tools instead. On the far right wall is what looks to be an opening into another room, but before I can move to investigate, I hear Asgore clear his throat behind me.

I turn and my throat tightens when I see he gave the boys long-sleeved striped shirts, in a pattern of green and yellow.

No, this is just a coincidence right? Striped shirts with that color pattern are just really popular in the Underground; Asgore doesn’t have a connection to that girl, _does he_?

I try to shove the thought away as I see he gave One brown pants a bit too long for him and Two gray pants that are too short. I give them a small smile as they approach, glad that it’s fairly genuine, despite my impending worries. Two’s shirt is actually too short for him as there’s a small gap between where it ends and his pants begin. It leaves a few inches of his spine visible, bothering me the slightest bit that he is a living being made of so little material. I hope Asgore can find a longer shirt for him.

“So, I guess it’s time we have that discussion,” Asgore says with forced enthusiasm.

I nod and take a seat at the head of the table, so the boys will sit at my left. They sit down with confused expressions, looking between Asgore and me.

I pull out my notebook and flip to find an empty page while I grab my pen. As I search, I notice there are gaps in my past writings. Some pages are completely blank between sections that are fully written. I quickly read sentences as I turn the pages, realizing they’re all my dumb writings about the Surface. I expect to search much farther into the book, knowing all my journal writings were my more recent entries. But I’m only a little over halfway through before all my writings stop. I pause on an empty page and fan through the remainder of the book. There’s nothing, all my journals are gone.

What the hell happened? How are they just… _erased_? I know for a fact that I had almost completely filled up the whole notebook. Is this some kind of joke?

I look up at Asgore, his face expressing confusion at my hesitation.

He _must_ have some sort of involvement in this. He is the damn king of the Underground; his magic could be even more powerful than mine. Did he erase the boys’ memories? Is he trying to make me think I’m insane? Why? So he can lock me up all over again?

I clear my throat and look down at my paper, burying my growing suspicion. I can’t confront him with the boys here; I don’t want them to worry.

I decide to start with general questions before diving into the specifics of what they could remember. Maybe all they need is a little prompting in order for everything to come back.

_What do you remember?_

I interact with them the same way I did before, asking my question out loud while they read it. The method is even more helpful now since Asgore is watching.

Both of the boys scrunch their faces in concentration, as if it will help improve their memories.

“Uh, well I know he’s my brother,” One says.

“Yeah, and he’s my brother,” Two pipes up.

“Okay, but do you remember anything else? Perhaps any _body_ else?”

“Wait, what did they say?” Asgore asks.

“It’s the same thing. They know they’re brothers, but that’s it.”

Asgore furrows his eyebrows, as if he can’t believe they wouldn’t know more. Although I feel that he knows damn well why.

“Uh wait, you… you seem familiar,” One says, squinting at me.

I nod, “Yeah, we’ve met before.”

“But… where was that? I don’t… I just remember talking to you… but I can’t remember what it was about.”

“Yeah, I remember talking to you too,” Two says.

I nod, but bite the inside of my lip. Damn, I thought my hint would help them remember _Gaster_. I don’t care if they remember me. Well, I guess it’s nice that they do, but there aren’t any meaningful details.

“You’re... you’re nice,” Two says with a smile. One agrees with his brother before giving me a grin.

Okay, I guess that is a meaningful detail.

I turn to Asgore and explain what they said. He nods before standing up and I raise an eyebrow.  
“Well, since you’re getting to know each other again, I’ll warm up the kettle for some tea.”

“Alright,” I say, taking advantage of the opportunity as he walks through the opening to another room. I look over and see it leads into what looks to be a small kitchen.

Once Asgore disappears around a right corner, I write more detailed questions as fast as possible. I’m going to keep my guard up for now, especially since he’s my only suspect, unless Alphys might have her hands in this.

I silently slide the notebook to the boys, hoping that when they answer my questions Asgore will think they’re just asking me what happened. As they read, I focus on their SOUL auras with my magic, noting at how much better I’m getting at it. However, I almost immediately pull my senses away when I realize their SOULs are… _fragmented_. It’s as if someone tore a chunk off of each of their SOULs and left gaping holes behind, like a piece of each of them is missing. I put the thought in the back of my mind when they look up at me.

The first responses I get from either of them is confused stares as they read over my questions.

 _Do you remember any other skeletons? Or maybe a place that was mostly green walls? Or an explosion? Anything? Do you remember_ **_him_ ** _?_

I don’t think I should mention anything _too_ specific, just in case they never remember. I don’t want to have to explain anything. If they really don’t remember their pasts, then I’m not going to remind them. But then that leads into so many questions for me to ponder…

“Um, who is ‘him’?” Two asks.

“Yeah, are you talking about that guy in the other room? I’ve never seen him before,” One says.

“Uh,” I stutter, realizing I should drop it completely.

_They don’t remember him Krista, neither of them. Don’t try to force painful memories to resurface._

“I don’t recall a place with green walls, and I’ve only ever seen one skeleton, my brother,” Two says.

“And an explosion? Is there something you’d like to explain?” One asks.

“Uh, sorry,” I say, writing a quick explanation, hating myself for the lies.

_Yeah, I was meaning that guy, sorry. His name’s Asgore. And don’t worry about my other questions, I’ve been asking everybody those recently, since I had a dream so bad I thought it was real._

Two seems content with my answer, but the old expression of suspicion creeps onto One’s face.

“So, what have we learned?” Asgore asks, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of teacups and a steaming teapot.

“Well, it’s clear that they don’t remember anything but each other and a little bit about me,” I say nonchalantly, trying to hide my growing panic attack.

“Hmm, why do you think their memories would be so limited? When did you meet them?”

Naturally, my first idea is to respond with the truth, but I hold my tongue. I can’t confront him yet.

“Uh, well I got lost in the Core and found them wandering around. We talked for a bit before that power outage happened.”

“Oh,” is all Asgore says while he pours the tea.

I need to get off the topic before I lose it.

“So, do you think we should try to teach them English? So you could communicate with them too?”

“Uh, yes I guess that would help. I think I had a book about skeletons actually…”

I pull out the font book from my bag and hold it out to him.

“Is it something like this?”

His eyes widen in surprise, “Uh, not exactly, but I guess that would work.”

He takes the book and flips through it, quickly reading the descriptions and scanning the fonts.

“They speak in a cipher, kind of like a code font,” I say, hoping he’s on the page that explains them.

Asgore nods, “So which one is it?”

“It’s the one with the name blacked out.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Uh, there aren’t any blacked out.”

I stand up and hold out my hand for the book, my throat tightening in the suspense.

I look at the first page of ciphers and immediately find the font I’m all too familiar with. My eyes widen when I see the title in clear view, so used to it being blacked out: _Wingdings_.

“It’s that first one,” I say, handing the book back with a finger on the title.

“Oh, alright so then we should make a key for them?” Asgore asks.

I sit down and write one in a minute, along with an explanation to the boys how the letters they don’t recognize is a translation from their language to ours.

I rip the paper out of my notebook and hand it to them.

“So, these letters are how you speak?” One asks.

I nod and write a sample word for them to translate: _skeleton_.

One follows the key and translates the word into Wingdings. I give him a smile, trying to hide all my internal conflict that continues to build.

“Oh, it seems he’s already getting it,” Asgore says cheerfully.

“Yeah, they just need to know how to pronounce them,” I say with forced enthusiasm.

“Well it’s a good start for now; it’s been a long day. Perhaps we get some rest?” Asgore asks, seeming to have completely forgotten the tea.

I write what he says to the boys and they agree. We all stand up from the table and Asgore leads us back to the bedroom he had taken the boys to earlier.

“You two can spend the night in here,” he says in a light-hearted tone. Seriously what’s put him in such a cheery mood? I’d be freaking out if I suddenly found myself sheltering a random teenage human and a couple skeletons that can’t speak my language.

The boys walk inside and wave goodnight. Asgore gives them a smile and I wave before he gently shuts the door.

“So I guess you could stay in here if you want,” Asgore gestures to another room across the hall.

I walk inside and see that it’s probably the plainest room imaginable. There’s a king-sized bed in the center of the room with a wardrobe twice my height on the left wall. Next to the bed is a small stand with a lamp on top and a checkered pattern rug covering most of the wood floor. Everything is in varying shades of white and gray, leaving me utterly empty inside. I suddenly wish the walls were painted teal.

“Uh, thanks,” I say tossing my duffel bag on the bed. I had left the font book and my pen on the table, but made sure to grab my notebook. There are too many things I need to think about.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning?” Asgore asks.

_Now’s my chance._

I turn to face him, “You know what? We forgot about that tea. Could we talk about some things? If you’re up for it of course.”

He seems surprised, but Asgore agrees and we head back to the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the first chapter of Part 2! As was mentioned in the last chapter, there's no point for Asgore to kill Krista considering he already has a Perseverant SOUL. (And to be honest, the guy really is sick of the killing.) This is sort-of his way of trying to make up for what he had done, although he knows nothing can ever make-up for that.
> 
> As I said at the end of Part 1, I'm going to take a break from posting until mid-July to catch up on editing/ writing new chapters. So I'll see you all then!


	2. A Dual Interrogation

“So, do you want to start telling me the truth now?” I say matter-of-factly, making sure the steel in my voice is audible. Asgore sits in the same spot he did before while I remain standing across from him.  

Asgore’s eyes widen, “I’m sorry Krista, but what are you trying to accuse me of?”

“Don’t play dumb, you  _ know _ about Gaster.”

“Again, who are you talking about?” he says in the most sincere voice imaginable.

“What did you do? How did you erase their memories? How did you erase my journals? Stop trying to make it seem like I’m crazy. I stared at that black mark for  _ weeks _ , and now all of a sudden it’s gone like no one had written it in the first place.”

He stares at me with wide eyes, as if I’m a rabid animal chained to a fence that is just about to break free. 

“I swear to you on my whole kingdom that I don’t know who or what you’re talking about. What makes you think I know about… Gaster, you say?” 

A memory hits me so intensely I almost drop my guard.

_ “You should know that Gaster created the Core, the source of power for all the Underground.” _

I take the information without remembering its source.

“Okay then, who created the Core?” I snap.

“What? Why would-”

“Answer the question; you’re the king so you should know who created such an essential power source.”

“I- uh,” Asgore looks down with a pained expression, as if trying to remember actually hurts him.

“Well?”

“I- I… I don’t remember. There was a time when it didn’t exist and then it did. I know there were many scientists and monsters who helped to design and build it, but I can’t remember who exactly thought of it first.”

Everything about Asgore, from his voice to his expressions says he’s telling the truth. Could it be that he has been honest this entire time? I can think of only one other person who would know. I sit down and grab a cup of tea, now lukewarm from sitting out for too long. The sight of it makes me realize how thirsty I am.

“Can I speak with Dr. Alphys?”

“Uh, why? Have you met her?”

“Sort of, I just want to see if she knows anything.”

“I’m being honest in saying I don’t think she would know either, unless she’s been hiding something,” Asgore says with growing concern.

“I’m just wondering, there’s no guarantee if she does or doesn’t.”

And based on her demeanor she should be pretty easy to see through. If she doesn’t remember, then the Core must be more dangerous than it seems. Of course then… what exactly did it do?

“So, can you explain who you think this ‘Gaster’ person is?” Asgore asks.

I sigh, “He was just someone I knew, and it’s better that he’s gone.”

“Well, why did you think he was the Royal Scientist?”

“He was a liar, always saying things that made him seem like he was better than everyone else. So thanks for telling me the truth,” I say, lifting my cup to Asgore. I take a sip of the tea and my face scrunches at the bitterness, realizing it’s the first tea I’ve ever tried. 

“Oh, that’s golden flower tea, it’s my personal favorite but if you prefer something else I can make it,” Asgore says kindly.

“Um, well I’ve actually never had tea before.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you not like it?”

“No it’s…” I trail off, my mind jumbling with so many questions I can barely taste the bright liquid. “It’s pretty good,” I finally say, taking another sip but only finding a bitter sting.

“So, where were you before you entered the Core? I didn’t hear any reports of a new human,” Asgore says.

“Uh, well the whole thing is kind of a blur but, I remember finding the lab and I saw a monster that others called ‘Alphys.’ And they kept saying how the Core needed some checking up on, and I thought that’d be an interesting place to visit. So when I got there that’s when I ran into the skeletons before that power outage.”

Asgore furrows his eyebrows, “Hmm, so did you enter the Underground through the Barrier?”

“I guess so,” I say, wondering if that’s even a possibility.

“And this was recent?”

“Yeah, I’ve only been here for a few days,” I say as sincerely as possible. I fight the urge to fidget my fingers around the cup, hating every single lie.

“Then, how do you know how to use magic? I haven’t seen a human use it since...” his eyes glaze slightly, as if he’s remembering a time he’s been trying to bury.

“Well uh, my family always believed the legends of the mountain, and it was tradition to continue magic, even in the modern world. We kept it a secret from anyone else.”

Asgore’s suspicion seems to melt away as he takes a sip of his tea.

“So you accidentally wandered into the Underground and stayed in Hotland until you entered the Core. I guess my only question then would be how can you understand their language? It makes sense that you know how to write it since you have that book, but how can you understand it?”

“Well, the book also goes into explanations about how the language is spoken, since it was written when skeletons who spoke that language were around. When I met the boys I recognized their speech patterns and was able to decipher them.”

“You were able to understand that quickly?”

Damn, he’s a hard one to convince. Although I don’t blame him since my story is riddled with holes. I’ve never been a good liar.

“Yeah, I’m a quick learner, and I also think it has a tie to my magic.”

Okay, at least that is the truth.

“Hmm,” is all Asgore says as he stares at me, no doubt trying to search for any details in my appearance that would contradict my claims. I stare back, used to being scrutinized.

He finally clears his throat and stands up, gathering the cups of cold tea.

“You are definitely a mysterious one, but I believe you Krista.” I raise an eyebrow, unsure if he’s just saying it so I’ll trust him or if he’s being sincere. “While most of the humans I’ve encountered have entered through the Ruins, I’m sure your case is a possible exception. And even though you haven’t explored the Underground, you look like you’ve been through a lot.”

He picks up the tray of teacups and I place mine on it.

“Thanks, I guess. And I don’t know why but everything has been kind of a blur recently. I’ve had a hard time figuring out who to trust, where to go, and what to believe. Maybe that’s why I’ve been thinking about people and things that don’t exist.”

I say the lies as if I’m a confused little girl who truly has no idea what the world is like. Thankfully, they make Asgore drop his guard of suspicion even more as he gives me a soft smile. 

“Don’t worry, you can stay here for as long as you’d like,” he says before walking into the kitchen.

I stand up and follow him, realizing that I haven’t eaten since… yesterday? Or has it been even longer than that? The pains in my stomach only say it’s been long past my usual waiting time.

The kitchen is small compared to the other rooms. It’s narrow with various appliances against the wall across from the entrance. There’s a refrigerator, a sink, a counter, and a stove with what looks to be a fan above it that most stoves usually have. Other than that there’s a rack on the wall above the sink with some pans and oven mitts hanging in a neat row. A trash can sits in the corner to the right with what looks to have crumpled pieces of paper inside.

Asgore doesn’t seem to notice me as he washes the dishes and I walk up to the fridge. Several recipes are plastered across the metal doors with magnets advertising the different areas of the Underground.

I glance at him and he notices my movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have offered to get you some food. Are you hungry? I’m not the best cook, but I think I can make a quick meal.”

His rambling is so endearing I almost smile; no adult has been this concerned about me in years.

“You don’t have to make anything, a granola bar would be fine,” I say without thinking.

“Just a granola bar? Are you sure, dear?” he asks, concern filling his eyes.

“Yeah that’s fine, besides, isn’t it pretty late?”

I glance at the far wall to my right and see a clock that reads 12:27.

“Oh my, I didn’t realize it was already past midnight.”

Asgore quickly finishes the dishes and places them upside-down on the counter to dry. Then he opens a cabinet door under the counter and pulls out two granola bars wrapped in clear plastic.

“Are you sure this is fine until morning?” he asks.

I nod, “Definitely.”

I take the bars and back out of the kitchen, “Well uh, goodnight then. I’m sorry for saying so many confusing things, maybe walking through the Barrier did something to me.”

Asgore nods and walks with me towards my room. “Yes, that might have been it. If there are two things I always take seriously, it’s the Core and the Barrier; they’re very unpredictable.”

We reach my room and he gives me a kind smile. “Goodnight, Krista.”

“Night,” I say before closing my door. I lock it for good measure, feeling a sense of security I’ve never had before. At home, we learned very quickly to not lock the door. The one time we did, he had a meltdown, kicking the door off its hinges and delivering the first of many painful mornings. I close my eyes and allow a shudder to run through me.  _ He’s gone, Krista… he’s gone. _

I turn on the lamp next to the bed and climb on top of the covers, feeling another sense of freedom. I look up at the ceiling and around the room, no cameras. Of course there wouldn’t be, yet I still can’t help but feel watched to some degree.

I look down at the bars in my hand and resist the urge to smack myself. Why did I ask for granola? I literally could have asked for  _ anything _ , and the first thing I thought of was granola?

I sigh, damn it, I hope I’ll be able to break this habit.

Gaster’s gone. I’m free and no one will ever control my life again.

The granola tastes bittersweet when I think of the logistics of that thought.

I open my duffel bag and pull out my notebook, persistent to figure out what the hell has happened.

I search for any trends in what  _ is _ written and what  _ should _ be written, realizing the most important fact within a minute.

Anything I wrote that even vaguely related to Gaster is gone. All the journals about my day, my insults, and descriptions of the lab are all gone. Even the two conversations I wrote to the boys are gone. The only writings that remain are my lame stories about the Surface.

So, does that mean that anything and everything relating to Gaster is gone? 

I pull out my calendar and open it to January, my eyes landing on the twentieth. Where he had once written  _ Arrival _ in it is now an empty box. I flip to March and the second has the  _ X _ I wrote in it, but not the box around the date that he had made. I flip through the rest of the months and there are no changes. Even the session days still have the marks I made in preparation for them. 

I toss my calendar to the side and grab the notebook he had written to teach me about magic. My eyes widen at the black cover, so used to seeing the silver, unoriginal title. Now, there’s nothing. I flip through the notebook and only find the other writings I made in his font, back when I was just learning it.

It seems that every trace of Gaster truly has been erased; well, except for the boys themselves that is. But then, how are they missing fragments of their SOULs? Don’t monsters each have independent SOULs without any direct connection to their parents? Maybe it’s because they’re such a unique case that without him, they will always be missing a part of themselves. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. 

If Asgore really is telling the truth, and Alphys doesn’t remember him either, then the Core must have erased him from existence. Isn’t that what that girl was hinting at when she attacked him?

I gasp when I realize that  _ she _ was the one who wanted me to know that Gaster created the Core. She  _ knew _ this would all happen. Everything she said was just an elaborate game of foreshadowing. But how did she know? Can she see everything in the past, present, and future? Is she the reason why he was erased? Or was that meant to happen with or without her influence? Obviously, there wouldn’t be anyone to ask if others have fallen into the Core since they would’ve been forgotten too.

If Gaster really has been erased from existence, from even the minds of the very skeletons he created, then why do  _ I  _ still remember him? Why, out of everyone he knew would it be  _ me _ ?

I can’t think of a decent explanation, especially with my mind so muddled by exhaustion and other questions about my new “guardian.” Asgore really does seem to be nice and genuine; I’m almost hoping he truly doesn’t remember Gaster. But then I would only have one person to direct my anger and confusion at, and apparently she only comes out to play when there’s enough “magical exposure,” whatever she means by that.

I stuff my calendar and notebooks into my duffel bag, feeling an attachment to them for some reason. Maybe because they’re symbols that all of it has been real, and I should make sure that my suffering won’t be forgotten.

I notice my blanket stuffed underneath my clothes and pull it out, its dark blue a striking contrast to the gray and white room. I toss my duffel bag onto the ground and lay my blanket out on top of the puffy white comforter. 

The room suddenly feels like a strange mixture between the room I had back at home and the cell I so recently left. I hope I can adjust to this new reality, free from tyrants and abuse. Or at least I hope I’m free from them.

I snuggle under the covers and turn off the lamp, secretly glad that the hallway remains dimly lit. I wouldn’t say I have a fear of the dark, but I’ve never had the opportunity to sleep in it either. At home, the city’s lights were always peering through the shades, and the lab was obviously never pitch black.

I sink my head into the fluffy pillows, realizing how much I missed the simple luxury. The mattress feels like the softest surface I’ve ever touched; although I’m not sure if it truly is or that’s just because I’ve been sleeping on a metal platform for the past few months. Either way, I’m almost worried I won’t be able to get up in the morning, as the cocoon of comfort smothers my strained muscles and anxious thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asgore doesn't blindly believe her, but he can tell she's been hurt/traumatized by something, so he's more willing to let his suspicions go. 
> 
> As much as I'd like to triumphantly say, "I'm back," I've realized that I won't be able to post every week like I did with Part 1. My main reason is the fact that I took a whole year to write it before I began posting chapters. Now, I'll only be able to post one or two chapters a month, and I can guarantee that it will be either on a Friday or Saturday. On the positive side, my average chapter length used to be 1000-4000 words. Now, my goal is making them between 3000-6000, so even though I won't post as often, you guys will at least get more content per chapter.  
> Thanks for your patience and for sticking with me despite the fact that I won't be active as often as I used to be.


	3. Lessons And Observations

_ Shadows shift and darkness spreads. A face watches, hidden behind the chaos. It’s familiar, yet simultaneously foreign. The face squints at me in anger, as if I’m to blame for its mistakes. The mind behind the face knows my name. And it won’t stop until it reaches me. It will wait until I have nowhere to run, and then it will destroy the remaining pieces of my life. _

_ “You can’t run,” the face whispers. _

_ I feel like I should run, but I don’t.  _

_ Instead I stand taller, anger replacing fear. _

_ “Come and get me then,” I snap. _

My eyes drift open and I intake a sharp breath, pulling myself back into reality.

That was a weird dream; although, it’s actually kind of mild when I think about all the weirdness I’ve encountered in real life. 

I push myself up into a sitting position, noticing that the light in the hallway is much brighter than it was last night. It makes me wonder if the whole Underground is on some sort of light timer in which they dim right around the time the sun would be setting on the Surface.

I turn on the lamp and slip out from underneath the covers, expecting the air to be much colder than it actually is. Oh yeah, there are actually  _ normal _ temperature settings in this place. I almost shiver at the thought of how much I’ll have to adjust to in the coming weeks.

Weeks… months… years… what will become of my life now? I’ve never had the option to make such a monumental decision. Now that I have the ability to make it, I have no idea what to do.

Maybe it’s best to take this new life in small steps: day by day. Whenever I feel ready to move on, then I’ll choose my future. Until then, I think I’ve got some English lessons to teach.

I grab the empty notebook and my calendar marker, just so there’s more paper and writing utensils for us to share. I’m sure Asgore probably has some, but I’m not going to bother him over something so trivial.

I’m about to leave the room when I pause, looking down at my worn, wrinkled clothes. If he had extra clothes for the boys, maybe there are some that could fit me?

I open the wardrobe and my eyes widen at the sudden burst of color contrasting the dull room. Inside, long-sleeve shirts and sweaters hang in a neat row just above my eye level. Below them are a few neat stacks of pants in varying shades of muted colors. I decide that my jeans are in good enough condition that I want to keep wearing them; I think it’s more-so a comfort factor since I don’t ever remember wearing a different kind of material. The shirts however, they’re too good to pass up.

While the shirts look to be designed for a child, when I put one on it’s actually a little too big for me. Wow, am I really that tiny?

With only a quick observation, I see that almost all of the shirts have the same pattern of just two stripes that are different in color from the rest of the material. I spot three in particular that are unlike the others. My stomach twists when I realize they have the exact same color pattern as what the girl wore: mostly green with one large yellow stripe in the middle.

I shake my head and bury the three shirts under the pants. My anxiety is probably stupid, but I can’t stand the idea of even looking at them in “my” wardrobe.

I quickly decide on wearing a dark blue sweater with white stripes, the sleeves so long they almost reach my fingertips. I give myself a little hug at the comfort of wearing something so warm and soft, it’s immediately my most favorite shirt of all time.

I finally turn off my lamp and leave the room, remembering to take my notebook and marker.

For some reason, I expect the house to be silent, but when I open my door I hear hushed voices to my left. At the table, Asgore sits next to the boys, pointing at a piece of paper and reading whatever is written. When I get closer, I realize he’s pronouncing the different letters of the alphabet and having the boys repeat them.

I can’t help but smile at how different Asgore looks today in comparison to yesterday. Instead of an outfit that declares a king, today he looks like a typical dad. He wears a pink button-down shirt with small white flowers on it and royal blue pants designed so his tail can stick out. I notice he’s still wearing his crown though, but it’s so humbly small no one would think he’s a king at first glance.

I’m only halfway to the table when Asgore sees me out of the corner of his eye and turns to me with a smile.

“Oh, good morning Krista!” he says before his face scrunches in contradiction to his cheerful voice. “Erm, well I guess it’s ‘good afternoon’ by now.”

I place my notebook and marker on the table and drag the remaining chair around to sit across from them.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so late,” I say honestly. My sleep schedule is _ really _ inconsistent.

“It’s no problem, we’ve already made some decent progress today,” Asgore says, gesturing to the stacks of written papers strewn across the table.

“I guess I won’t need this,” I say, pushing my notebook to the side.

“You can still use it if you want. Oh and by the way, I couldn’t find that book about skeletons I mentioned yesterday, so I read more of that font book you have.”

“That’s fine, we should figure out what their names are anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“A skeleton’s name is the font it naturally speaks and writes in, so we just have to match up their handwritings with fonts from the book. Whatever the titles of the fonts are, then that would be their names.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” Asgore says.

I write an explanation to the boys, wanting them to find out their names first. But when they read my note, they just scrunch their faces in confusion.

“What’s a ‘name’?” One asks.

My heart aches as I write and speak to them. “A name is what other people call you and how you identify yourself.”

“Huh, well then my name is ‘Brother,’” One says.

“Yeah, my name is Brother too!” Two says.

“Well, no that’s not exactly a name,” I say gently.

“So, are our names what’s written on these plates?” One asks, looking at his hand.

“No that’s not it either; just try to match your handwriting with what’s in this book,” I say, placing the font book in front of them.

As they flip through the pages, I explain our discussion to Asgore.

“Hmm, I wonder how they could know so little at this age. Just this morning, when I gave them some cereal for breakfast, they had no idea that they needed to use a spoon to eat. It’s so strange.”

I guess this fully confirms my theory that they need to eat; I wonder how Asgore knew. Could it be that he’s also been around since the war so he knew the skeletons? Or is it a subconscious memory of Gaster?

“Oh! There’s your font, Brother!” Two says excitedly.

I look over and see the boys pointing at a font called “Comic Sans.”

Two jumps up and down in his seat as they flip through the pages even faster, scanning for his own name. One- Comic Sans (I hope it won’t take me too long to get used to saying) -stops abruptly and points to his brother’s name. “‘Papyrus,’” he reads.

Two- Papyrus- gasps, “I love them!”

“Oh, and look here, that’s your font,” Sans says looking up at me.

“Huh?” I ask as he slides the book across the table, pointing at a word.

“‘Carme,’” Papyrus reads enthusiastically. “Is that your name?” he asks me.

I shake my head and quickly write a question. What makes them think  _ I _ have a font?

“Well, that’s what your words look like,” Sans says.

“You see words?” I ask.

“Yeah, that’s how we were able to recognize them in the book so quickly,” Papyrus says. “His is ‘Determination Mono,’” he points to Asgore.

Asgore raises an eyebrow at me, and I give him a quick explanation about their names and how they can see fonts.

“Huh, so ‘Comic Sans’ and ‘Papyrus,’ for some reason, I think those names suit them,” he says.

“I think so too,” I say with a smile. Even though they’re far from the traditional names I’m used to, it seems to me that monsters’ strange styles actually work. 

Asgore continues to teach the boys as I pull the book closer to stare at what is supposedly  _ my _ font. It’s pretty in its own simple way, with each letter possessing a slight softness that makes it easier to read than Determination Mono. 

It makes better sense for fonts to be so important to skeletons if they can actually  _ see _ the words that people speak. I’m only wondering why a _ human _ would have a font. Could it be because skeletons are partially human? Maybe it has to do with the uniqueness of humans that makes the words they speak different in written form, while monsters would all have the same font since they’re composed of the same magic. At least, I guess that’s the reason.

Maybe it’s how they connect to their magic that allows skeletons to naturally see spoken words; I don’t have any better theories than that.

We spend the rest of the day speaking through the alphabet and even moving on to full words, keeping to the basics. I notice that Papyrus has more trouble than his brother, and I take a bit more time to help him while Asgore moves on with Sans.

“So you know how certain letters can sound different depending on what word they’re in?” I ask him in writing.

“Yeah,” Papyrus says, unsure of himself.

“Well, the same principle is in the English language too. For example, every letter has a definitive pronunciation when it stands on its own, and when you run through the alphabet, they have a specific sound.”

He nods and says the alphabet, getting better with each try.

“Good. So in many cases that pronunciation is built into a word. But with some, that letter may sound completely different or it may sound like another letter. So it all depends on context.”

Papyrus hesitantly nods and I give him an encouraging smile before showing him examples of how specific letters sound in various words. I think he’ll get it, even though he’s not picking it up as fast as Sans, it’s only day one.

Around seven o'clock, Asgore gets up and announces that he’s going to make dinner. The boys follow him into the kitchen and I stay put, reviewing what we should work on next. 

I’ve never seen myself as a teacher, even though I was technically Mable’s when she had trouble understanding the topics in the homeschool books. I guess my guidance is why she always wanted to become one. I feel like it’s kind of instinctual for me since I was the oldest, yet I don’t think I’m very good at it.

I only spend about a minute lining up the next “lesson plan” before the chatter in the kitchen distracts me. It’s so bizarre to hear normal talking in another room, even at home I was used to silent halls.

It doesn’t take long for their voices to draw me into the kitchen, not only because I’m curious of what they’re saying, but I realize I suddenly don’t want to be left alone. After months of practically living in solitary confinement, I desperately miss the presence of friendly people.  

I stand in the doorway, a couple feet away from the others as Asgore grabs a pack of frozen ravioli from the freezer and a jar of red sauce from the fridge before he fills a pot with water. He makes a face when he notices me watching him, as if I’m disappointed that he can’t make the food from scratch. 

“I’m uh, not used to having company,” he says.

I smile a little at his embarrassment. Here is the king of the Underground, and he’s worried about what a few kids will think of him.

“Trust me, I’m not one to judge when it comes to cooking.”

When he places the pot of water on the stove, I notice there are no knobs to turn it on. The few dark buttons above it control the oven settings, but there’s nothing for the actual burners. 

I’m about to make a comment when Asgore forms a small flame above his hand and places under the pot. The flame immediately shifts to look like it had been ignited underneath the burner in the first place. Then he grabs another pot and repeats the process to heat up the sauce, accidentally splattering some of the bright red liquid on his shirt when he pours it too fast.

Even though I know all monsters have magic, it still frightens me a bit to see how casually Asgore wields such a destructive tool. I guess using it is as normal and simple as breathing to them, enough that it’s a major factor in their daily lives.

“Whoa, what was that?” Papyrus asks, even though Asgore doesn’t understand a word he says.

Before I have a chance to translate, Sans points to the flame and says, “Uh, that,” in English.

Asgore eyes brighten with pride and he says, “Magic fire.” 

“Ma-jic fy-err,” the boys try to repeat.

“Yes, very good little ones,” Asgore says, looking to me.

“They’re quite the fast learners,” I say.

“Indeed. At this rate, they’ll be reading novels by next month!”

I feel a sense of relief at the thought; I can’t stand this language barrier between us.

Once the ravioli is cooked, Asgore dishes out an even amount for each of us, around a cup for each bowl. 

“Now I’m not very creative when it comes to the ‘wholesomeness’ of meals so is there anything else you might want?” he asks me. I doubt the boys would have anything to add.

“Well, could I just have a glass of water?” I ask, feeling a bit self-conscious yet at the same time desperate for hydration.

“Oh of course, sorry, I haven’t been around humans in quite some time. I forgot that you need it much more often than we do.”

He wouldn’t be the first monster to forget that, but I wave off his comment as if it doesn’t bother me.

At its very worst, I’d say our meal is... awkward. I can tell the boys are struggling with adjusting to using utensils, but they don’t ask for help either. Asgore tries to keep up a light-hearted conversation about his cooking skills, but it quickly dies before I even have a chance to try the food.

I honestly can’t even remember the last time I ate ravioli. Did Bonnie even have it on her menu? There was one time I was able to bring some leftover spaghetti home, but I don’t think she served any other pasta-related dishes. My knowledge of the culinary world is seriously below-par. I remember when Matt tried to “teach” me about various styles of cooking, spouting off facts he had learned from so many shows I almost believed they were his only source of entertainment (but it turned out that popular movies were a whole other world he knew “everything” about). All in all, if Asgore were to ask me about what human culture is like nowadays, I’d just try to remember anything Matt talked about.

I glance up to see him watching me, not suspiciously like last night, but instead with curious concern. It’s probably because I still haven’t touched my food.

I stab a noodle partially covered with sauce and pretend to eat like I’ve had wholesome meals my entire life. It’s just frozen ravioli, no big deal. 

But of course, that plan fails when I taste the cheese and tomatoes blending with delectable harmony. It’s the best thing I’ve tasted in months.

“Do you think it’s good?” Asgore asks with genuine concern.

I almost laugh at his question; at my standards, the guy could be considered a five-star chef, but I nod instead. 

“Yeah, my wife was a real cook. If she wasn’t the queen she could’ve been a professional,” he says with a light smile.

I’m not sure if I should ask what happened to her; based on his expression it seems like a sensitive subject for him. So instead I ask, “What kind of stuff was she good at making in particular?”

“Oh well, I guess spaghetti was her favorite dish to cook. She’d make everything from scratch, even the noodles, and the sauce was usually made with tomatoes from our garden,” he smiles sadly. “But she was also quite the baker; pies were her favorite in that department. She was always coming up with different flavor combinations, like blueberry and strawberry, cream and pecan, or butterscotch and cinnamon.” Asgore chuckles a bit to himself, and I notice tears in the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, wiping them away. “It’s been a long time since I talked to anyone about her, and even though it feels like the wounds are opening up again, I think they’ve also healed a little too.”

I glance over at the boys and see them staring at him with concern, their bowls completely clean. I didn’t realize how awkward all of this must be for them. I’m guessing they just tuned us out and enjoyed their meal.

“Uh, it’s okay Asgore. It’s good to talk about the people we’ve lost. Even though we miss them, and it may hurt to remind ourselves, we should still remember the things we loved about them.”

I used this method to cope with my mother’s death. Mable and I would talk for hours about the little I remembered and everything we wished we knew. However, I feel like a hypocrite for giving him such advice, I’ve definitely dealt with Mable’s loss differently.

His eyes brighten a bit, “Yes, that’s true.”

Asgore looks at the boys and his eyes widen, as if he just remembered they’ve been here this whole time.

“Um, perhaps we should get to bed?” he asks.

While I’m pretty sure it’s only about eight-thirty, I agree anyways and write a note to the boys. They don’t argue as they get up and walk to their room.

“Goodnight Sans and Papyrus,” Asgore says.

Sans turns, his face slightly scrunched in concentration as he says, “Goo-nigh.”

He seems proud of himself when he sees the smile I can’t keep off my face. I guess Gaster couldn’t help teaching them bits and pieces about the world considering how bright they are.

Once they shut their door, Asgore gathers up their empty bowls to take to the kitchen. I look down at my own and realize I’ve only had about two bites this entire time. I’m definitely not a social eater.

I only eat half the bowl before I’m completely full, a feeling so foreign I’m almost dizzy from it. When Asgore comes back, his eyebrows furrow, as if he expects me to tell him I hate what he cooked.

“I really am sorry, I don’t have the skills-” he cuts himself off when I begin to shake my head.

“It’s not that, I just honestly can’t finish the rest. Could I put it in the fridge for tomorrow?”

“Uh sure,” he says, slightly surprised.

In the kitchen, I make sure to refill my water glass, feeling spoiled to have the luxury of choice. When I re-enter what I think I’d consider the living room, Asgore stands near the hallway of doors with an apprehensive expression. I raise an eyebrow when I reach him and he begins to slowly walk, as if giving a tour.

“I guess I should’ve shown you the rest of this place last night, but there’s not much to see anyway,” he says.

On the left side of the hallway there are three doors: first what I’d now consider as the boys’ bedroom, then one with a piece of paper that says “room under renovations,” and the third I assume is Asgore’s bedroom.

On the right side there are only two doors: first what I guess is now mine, and the second is a bathroom at the end of the hallway.

“Now I don’t have much of a variety in different types of soaps, but are you fine with what I have for now?” Asgore asks when he opens a large cabinet above the sink, displaying all kinds of bottles containing shampoos, conditioners, and body wash soaps. My eyes widen at the undeniable amount of variety, and I raise an eyebrow at him. Was he trying to make a joke when he said he didn’t have much variation?

“Yeah this is fine,” I say, tempted to ask him how serious his question was. 

“Okay, good. It’s just that I’ve heard of so many human products I was worried I didn’t have your preference.”

That’s a laugh; I just always grabbed the cheapest brand at home. But I nod instead as if I’ve had my eyes on the Pantene shampoo this entire time, remembering it was Mom’s favorite brand. Which begs the question… how has he “heard of” different products of human soaps and shampoos?

I turn to him and my expression is enough of a question when he says, “There’s uh, a lot of interesting things we’ve found at the dump. Entire packages of untouched food and soap. Some of the scientists have found ways to replicate them, and we’ve kind of adopted them into our society.”

I guess that makes sense, but… “You guys have a garbage dump with items from the Surface? How do they get down here?”

“Through a very specific waterfall in well, Waterfall.”

“Only one?”

“Yes, we think it’s the only water source connected to a direct stream on the Surface. The only strange thing is that we can’t see sunlight in the daytime, and some have said it’s probably because we’re so far below. But the rest of the falls are most likely from aquifers or rainwater; it’s quite rainy on the Surface right?”

“Well in the spring and fall we get more than most places,” I say.

“Yes, so it’s possible that enough water could have accumulated in an area to cause constant waterfalls with our slight influence of magic.”

“So, you guys have kind of shaped the Underground’s environment with magic?”

“Yes, when we first entered, we figured we’d separate it into different sections, since some monsters prefer cooler or warmer temperatures. It took years to get it right, sometimes the whole place was an ice cave and other times it was like a volcano, but we got it eventually. I think someone figured out how to create mild barriers that were weak enough for us to travel through but were strong enough to hold back the air.”

Gee, I wonder who came up with that…

“Was it Alphys?” I ask innocently.

“Oh no, this was a long time before she became a scientist. I think it was actually a group of them, we’ve had so many intuitive contributors over the years.” 

I try my best to hold back a smirk and thankfully succeed. Maybe Asgore will realize at some point that there’s clearly  _ someone _ important missing in his past. I decide it’s better to get off the topic before I enter another tangent about why I’m not crazy.

“So I guess they thought striped shirts were a good fashion trend?” I ask lightheartedly.

Asgore steps out into the hallway and I follow, closing the door behind me. He chuckles a bit before opening his door.

“You know, someone asked me that same question a long time ago. My best answer would be it’s more artistic than a plain color and cheaper than an actual picture design.”

“Hmm, I guess that makes sense. Thanks for the shirt by the way, I mean, if you’re okay with me keeping it?”

He smiles, but I can see the strain of it, “Of course, it seems to be a good fit for you.” His eyes trail from me to down the hallway, as if he’s hoping someone will show up to agree with him. “Well, goodnight Krista.”

“Night,” I say before he closes his door. 

Asgore seems to be a genuine guy, but there’s definitely a… distance to him, as if he’s struggling to hold onto the past. I’m not sure if I should question him about it or leave it alone. Maybe he’s been this way for so long he doesn’t even realize it.

My eyes drift to the right and I see a long, horizontal mirror secured to the wall, a sudden reminder that there are probably some noticeable things about myself that I don’t realize. I step in front of the mirror, instantly startled by my own image. 

I knew I had lost a bit of weight during my time in the lab, but I didn’t think it was  _ this bad _ . Even though the hallway light is dim, it’s still brighter than the little I had above my shower, allowing me to see the true damage of the past few months. 

My eyes are slightly sunken, with dark shadows underneath that almost look like bruises. My cheekbones are more prominent than they’ve ever been, causing my cheeks to look hollow and sallow. My collarbones sharply poke up from underneath my shirt, and when I take a deep breath I can feel my skin painfully tightening over my ribs.

How did it get this bad? I remember noticing some subtle changes, but that was all the way back in March! And now it’s… what month is it? May... right?

I bolt back to my room, making sure not to spill my water and silently shut the door. I flip on the lamp and place my glass next to it before pulling my duffel bag back onto the bed. My calendar is the first thing I find, and I tear it out of my bag before even fully opening it. 

_ What day is it? What day is it? What day is it? _

I flip to May and find the last day I put an  _ X _ through, the nineteenth. That was the day I met Alphys, and then the next day was when I left my cell and…

That was the day Gaster fell. How long has it been since then? It couldn’t have been much more than a day… right? The Core wouldn’t be able to change time itself, could it?

That’s my first priority to ask Asgore tomorrow. I’ll just have to make the excuse that I’ve lost track of time since I entered the Underground.

I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. When did I become so anxious over something as simple as the date? Have I always had anxiety this intense? Or does it just seem worse than normal because I actually feel…  _ safe _ for once?

I sigh and shove the calendar back into my bag, accidentally opening the history book in the process. I pull it out and scowl at the cover, what a great help it has been for me. I bet Asgore was around during the war. He’d probably say the book barely scratches the surface of what really happened. I grab the SOUL book and hold it up too. I bet this thing is also avoiding the whole picture of how monsters and humans actually function. I toss the two back in my bag, ready to crawl under the covers when I get a strange feeling that I should look more closely at the SOUL book.  

Wait. Isn’t there something important that I’ve been missing? I grab it and flip through the pages, my heart speeding up once again. I reach the end and realize what I should’ve discovered last night: the fifteen pages he had ripped out are back. Here they are, like he’d never done anything in the first place, and I understand why he had taken them.

The last fifteen are separated into three sections, the first one reminding me of what led me here in the first place: controlling other SOULs to bend to one’s will. Then the next section describes L.O.V.E. and something called “Execution Points.” And the last one seems to address “Saving” and “Loading.” Huh, what did the writer think they were discussing on that point? Video games?

I hesitantly flip to the first section, curious as to how my father did it, but also frightened of knowing I could do it myself. I mean, who knows? Maybe it’s a skill I’ll need in the future, but only in a situation when it’s  _ absolutely necessary _ , when there are no other options.

Surprisingly, the book doesn’t describe much beyond what I already know or could infer. It actually sounds similar to what Gaster said on how he had overridden SOUL traits to repurpose them. Only, the book explains it on a more intense level, as a battle of wills rather than a simple experiment. 

Basically, a SOUL’s strength is centered on the being’s physical body and its connection to its trait. When one wishes to control another, they must take ahold of their opponent’s SOUL first, a task in and of itself if they are strong physically or are a powerful wielder of magic. Once the attacker has a firm grasp, they can then  force their wishes onto the other, taking full control of their body. Apparently, the attacker can sometimes see through their opponent’s eyes when they take full control. The thought makes me shudder.

So even though my Father and I were on about the same level of magic experience, the fact that he was stronger physically is why he was able to overpower my own wishes and interject his own. Even though he had lost all connection to his trait, he easily became the one in control. All to kill his own daughter who never deserved the life he selfishly threw her into.

I take a deep breath to avoid falling into another silent fit of rage over something I can’t change. There’s no point to it; I’ll only exhaust myself with nothing to gain.

I guess it will be a nice trick to use in the future, but I feel like it would be much more difficult to do than the author explains. It makes me feel like they were probably a Patience who merely speculated the power that greater traits can access.

The next section is taken up by more charts than words, showing how L.O.V.E. and Execution Points (or EXP) function. Apparently the points, “quantify the pain one inflicts upon others.” They increase whenever a person kills someone, and when they have enough, their L.O.V.E. increases, or their “capacity to hurt.” It makes it easier for someone to distance themselves from others and therefore, easier to kill.

I’m guessing this means it also makes a SOUL more powerful, but under darker circumstances than through simple training. Gaster said I had gained L.O.V.E., not even mentioning EXP, which means… _ I’ve _ already started my path down that road. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want me to know the extra details; he probably assumed I would have had more confidence in attacking him. But then, does that mean he…  _ feared _ me to some degree? No, that’s ridiculous, right? 

The charts highlight the circumstances on how one’s EXP and L.O.V.E. can increase, showing different stats in relation to monsters killing humans and vice versa. It seems that the numbers increase faster when one is murdering their own kind, especially when it’s a human. However, the wishes of the killer can also affect the EXP, adding either more or less points depending on how strong their intentions are. Based on the book, killing two humans would set me either at Level Two or Level Three. Since it wasn’t  _ my _ intention to kill Mable, I’d think I’m at Level Two, hopefully.

I’d rather be able to connect with people and have a weak SOUL than be distant from everyone and have a powerful one. The lower my L.O.V.E. is the better off I’ll be.

The last section seems to be more speculation than anything, but it does get me to think enough that I see why Gaster removed it. While the power to control time itself seems to only be within the abilities of a Determined, apparently the other traits can access fragments of it if they are near the maximum limits of their power.

Just like a game, apparently there are powers referred to as SAVE, LOAD, and RESET. While there is no definitive proof these powers exist, some Determinations in the past have supposedly claimed to live thousands of various lifetimes. They said the day they felt they had achieved their greatest strengths was the day that became their original LOAD point. Once they died for the first time or desired to repeat time itself, then they were able to go back to that point in time using a RESET. They could then SAVE their progresses through that timeline, and if they died, they could go back to that specific SAVE point. It was only when they truly desired to RESET was when they could go back to their first LOAD point.

Of course, all of these supposed powers are only within the capabilities of Determinations, but the book claims that a strong enough Perseverant and maybe even a Justice can potentially  _ interact _ with said powers. While they can’t gain a hold of the SAVE “files,” it is said some can remember a Determination’s past actions and can gain more than their average amount of Determination from that knowledge. Apparently this had occurred only once, allowing a Justice and a Perseverant to work together to kill an oppressive Determination.

The last bit of the section throws one more possibility out that weaker Determinations are at greater risk of having their timelines taken over by Perseverants. Supposedly, a Perseverant can influence their SAVE files and even their RESET points. If the purple SOUL has greater strength, then it may even be able to change a Determined’s SAVE points into RESET points, forcing them to constantly move forward.

I close the book and stare at the back cover, attempting to process all of the craziness. So, was that last section just theories? True stories? False legends? I’m not sure. The only way to find out would be to meet a Determination who can screw around with timelines and-

That girl, could  _ she _ possibly be manipulating timelines? It’s wouldn’t be hard to believe. But then again, if she could control time, then why did she say she was stuck in that gray world? 

I rub my temples and toss the book, along with my bag, onto the ground. Thinking in circles will get me nowhere. I should just focus on helping the boys for now, and then I’ll start exploring this place a bit more. Maybe the answers will present themselves on their own. Or maybe I could sneakily get Asgore to explain a few things to me. Whichever the case, I just need to be patient and observant… for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has several of my own interpretations/changes that'll be used later in the story. However, Krista's font is mainly a little nod to the fact that I've written this story in that form of text. And to be honest, I think it suits her.
> 
> Since Gaster wrote the font book that Asgore's referring to, it's been erased like what was written in the notebook Krista has. Asgore only vaguely remembers it because its usefulness is connected with the boys. (Another memory he can't place but doesn't question because he assumes he made it up.) 
> 
> On a side note, I had a difficult time coming up with a title; I hope it works.


	4. Reminders And Distance

Three weeks. It only takes the boys three weeks to learn fluent English. For some reason, it doesn’t surprise me, not even after how much Papyrus struggled his first couple days. 

I almost laughed with relief when Asgore told me it was the twenty-second of May the morning after my night of cryptic reading. Even though it only means the Core can’t mess with time, it’s still comforting to know. 

He told me he didn’t want to schedule a meeting with Alphys until her project was complete. At first, I was bothered with the idea of waiting for so long, but now I’m content with it. The more time that passes, the less suspicious I am that Alphys had anything to do with Gaster’s disappearance from everyone’s memories. Besides, why would Alphys have been freaking out the way she did if she knew everyone would forget? 

I think we’ve all finally become comfortable with our situation, establishing a routine of daily lessons not only on language, but on basic knowledge in general. I’m not surprised by how little the boys know, it’s obvious Gaster didn’t care to teach them about everyday things in the normal world. Turning on and off lights, the names of various objects, using utensils, turning door knobs, even knowing to sleep on the beds are all new experiences for them. Even though I’m not surprised, I still feel pangs of sadness for them. They don’t understand  _ anything _ , and they don’t even know  _ why _ .

Their speedy learning skills become a whole new level of comfort for me as at least their confusion decreases with each day. It becomes less awkward to have conversations, and it’s easier to see them as teens near my age rather than as little kids.

Although, I’ve noticed that Papyrus is much more… social than Sans. Especially after Asgore showed him all of the books he could read, he seems more distant and quiet than his vociferous brother. Or maybe it’s just with me. Despite his friendly attitude the first couple days, Sans has seemingly avoided me ever since. Even Papyrus noted near the end of the second week how Sans doesn’t seem to enjoy my presence. I’m not sure what it is; I know he’s always been suspicious of me, but I thought that was just because he was trying to figure me out. I hope it doesn’t mean he’s able to sense L.O.V.E. in SOULs, somehow.

But Papyrus on the other hand seems to trust me like a good friend, constantly asking questions and inviting me to work on puzzles with him. While Sans has taken a liking to books, Papyrus is interested in puzzles and cooking. I guess it all factors into their personalities. Even though they’re both very bright and observant, Sans prefers individual activities while Papyrus prefers the social ones.

I place an  _ X _ through today’s date, June twelfth. I’m not sure why I prefer to cross out a day before it’s barely begun, but for some reason it makes more sense to me that it’s the last one with an  _ X _ rather than the first empty box. When did that habit start? I know in the lab I always marked days after they were over. Maybe my own mind has somehow been a little scrambled by the Core. Or maybe it’s just that the more normal life among monsters seems the weirder I become. Both options are valid in relation to my dreams.

Every night since I first came here, I’ve had some form of a confusing, almost nightmarish dream, ranging from nameless faces to gray rooms to an inky black abyss. And every morning, I wake up with either a feverish sweat or trembling shivers. Of course, none of the others know about them. Otherwise, if they  _ can _ sense the fear and panic that are constantly suffocating my SOUL, then they don’t care to say anything. 

I sigh and try to shake off last night’s horror show by wrapping myself tighter in my blanket. When I close my eyes I can still see some of the images: a flash of white light, black waters, and then nothing but gray. Each one is paired with a new wave of dread, piercing pain, and then a cold so aching it cuts through my bones.

I’ve never had many nightmares throughout my life, even though I’m the perfect candidate for them. Sure I had them at home, occasionally and even some when I was in the lab, but they’ve never been this consistent. I guess the only reason why they’ve suddenly become a recurring event is because I finally feel...  _ safe _ to some degree. It’s as if my brain doesn’t want me to forget the horrors that have dominated my life, especially the most recent ones. Almost all of the nightmares have traced back to either my sessions or Gaster’s fall, as if there’s something about them I’m supposed to  _ realize _ . I don’t think I’ve forgotten any details; it doesn’t  _ feel _ like I’m forgetting anything important. Maybe I’m just paranoid that I’ll fall into another powerless situation; I mean, that  _ has _ been my life for the past eight years.

I leave my room to find Asgore at the main room table with Papyrus working through a puzzle on the floor. Sans, unsurprisingly, is nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, good morning Krista! Do you want to take a look at my puzzle?” Papyrus says looking up at me as I walk towards them. They’ve realized by now that I’m a late-riser, although it’s not  _ too _ extreme, it’s usually around nine.

“Sure,” I say sitting next to him to see his progress. He’s already gotten a decent amount done, considering the box nearby says it’s five hundred pieces. The whole border is complete and he’s filled the entire top-left corner. “When did you start this?”

“About a half an hour ago, I’m not sure if that means I’m doing good or not in terms of how fast I’m figuring it out.”

I almost laugh because I most certainly couldn’t figure out the border in that short amount of time. 

“No, you’re doing really well at that pace; I think you’re getting faster every day.”

“Well, even if I can solve the whole thing in three minutes someday, will you still try to work on them with me? I feel like puzzles are less fun if you do them alone without anyone knowing you’ve solved them.”

“Of course,” I say wholeheartedly as I grab a handful of pieces in search of any possible connections.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try today?” Asgore asks behind me.

I turn and shake my head, causing most of my hair to fall over my right shoulder. “I’m sure,” I reply before turning away from the concern growing on his face.

Asgore has attempted to make me eat breakfast every day since I got here, but each time I try, I can’t make myself do it. I’ve only been able to get a couple bites in before my body practically panics and I’m on the verge of throwing up. Thankfully I haven’t, but it’s not something I want to risk on a daily basis. It’s no doubt my internal hunger clock has been warped into believing I should only have one meal a day and anything beyond that is too much. And while I did have “breakfast” every day in the lab, my body has switched to expecting food later in the day ever since my first night here. I can only hope that I’ll begin to adjust  _ eventually _ , but the idea of eating three meals a day as Asgore insists is too grand of a feat at the moment.

“Uh, Krista,” Asgore says, his voice softer than usual.

“Hmm?” I ask, turning back to him.

His face is a strange mixture of concern and curiosity, fixated on both the backs of Papyrus’ neck... and mine. Uh oh.

I look over at Papyrus and notice a thin line on one of his vertebrates, resembling what I guess could be the equivalent to a scar for him. How did he get that?  _ When _ did he get that? It  _ had to _ have been Gaster, obviously, but what caused it? Unfortunately it all loops back to the fact that I have  _ no idea _ what horrors they experienced. I’m not sure I’d want to know even if I could.

Isn’t there something significant about his neck? I feel like I should know… after he healed my arm. When he reached my scars I had told him it was better to keep them, as a reminder of the past. I thought he had rubbed his neck just because he was uncomfortable with the idea, but he was actually thinking of  _ his own  _ scar. I shouldn’t have told him that; I was only thinking of how scars applied to me, but Papyrus… he doesn’t need reminders. He doesn’t deserve to carry them.

Papyrus turns back to Asgore, confused by our silence. I look down at the puzzle, pretending I never noticed anything.

“What is it? What did I do wrong?” he asks Asgore. My stomach tightens at the fact that he immediately believes he has done wrong when he’s one of the most innocent beings I’ve ever known.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong, little one,” Asgore says.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” Papyrus asks defensively, covering the back of his neck.

“Uh, well,” Asgore stutters, looking to me.

If I could sigh dramatically at him I would, but instead I address the one topic I’ve wanted to avoid.

“It’s because of my scars, Papyrus,” I say, trying to hide my growing shame at being put on the spot.

“Really?” he asks.

I glare at Asgore, refusing to bail him out entirely. He should know better than to stare at our marks of pain, even if we were facing away, because experiments always know when they’re being watched.

“He’s staring at both of us because he wants to understand, but he’s too embarrassed to ask.”

“No, well-”

“I understand why you wouldn’t ask, but seriously, own up to your curiosity. The worst that could happen is we deny you an explanation, but don’t _ stare _ at us like we’re wild creatures you’re studying from a distance. I’ve been treated like that for longer than I’d like to admit.”

I turn away and walk to my room, Papyrus following. I’m not surprised Asgore doesn’t try to follow; at least he knows when to choose his battles.

When I reach my room, Papyrus stops by the doorway, his eye sockets scrunched with concern.

“Sorry,” I say turning to him. “It’s just that, he shouldn’t be looking at you like that, it was rude and demeaning.”

“Well, maybe it’s because there’s something wrong with me,” he says softly, looking at the metal plate on his hand.

“Hey,  _ no _ ,” I say, so fiercely I surprise myself. “There is  _ nothing _ wrong with you.”

“Then why was he looking at me like that?”

“Because-” I stumble, “because he doesn’t understand, and people can be very judgmental, even without realizing it, when they don’t understand.” He looks at the ground, clearly struggling to believe my words. “But that does not mean there is something wrong with you just because others can’t comprehend why you look a certain way or carry certain scars. You are  _ you _ , Papyrus, and even though others can see your scar, it doesn’t define the kind of person you are.”

Papyrus finally nods and looks up at me, the usual sparkle within his eye sockets faintly returning. “That rhymed,” he says with a light smile.

“And that’s why you’re going to remember it,” I say, matching his expression.

“So, have you learned that from people staring at your scars?” he asks, his tone returning to serious.

His question throws me off a bit, “Well... yeah I guess, although I’ve found ways to hide them. But yes, there have been a few occasions that have allowed me to learn that ideology, and there are still times, like just now that irritate me when others stare. It’s one of those life lessons that I have to constantly remind myself of, but at least it’s a good reminder.”

Of course, I really haven’t had many incidents, surprisingly enough. At work I always kept my hair in a low bun and wore high-collar shirts that covered most of my neck. The only handful of incidents were within the months right after I gained my wounds, when they were still young enough to bleed from any sudden movement. I had to come up with excuses to work my way out of those situations. It was usually some nosy stranger at the store or an old family friend who I helped out that would make a comment or ask a question about the dark marks on my neck. How lucky of me to be able to quickly think of excuses that would erase any suspicion. My favorite two (or at least the easiest ones to come up with) were:  _ a friend’s cat sneak-attacked me from the top of a bookshelf,  _ and  _ I fell out of a tree and some sharp branches cut me.  _ It was almost laughably sad how quickly people believed my lies. Although, it was still fairly difficult for them to see my neck; I always made sure my hair remained behind my shoulders. 

Papyrus nods, “I’ll make sure to remember that, no matter what.”

He gives me a small smile before turning and walking into his room, his self-doubt still evident in his posture. I get a quick glance at Sans when Papyrus opens the door, leaning against the bed with a book. Within a second of seeing his brother, he looks at me, suspicion winking in his eye sockets. 

I try to convey my uselessness in helping, hoping he understands I’m not the cause of Papyrus’ agitation, but I don’t think Sans cares. The door shuts and I can still feel his judgmental gaze digging into my SOUL.

I hear their hushed voices on the other side of the door, but I’m not rude enough to eavesdrop. Instead, I walk back to the living room, seeing Asgore still sitting at the table.

He stands up when he sees me, as if preparing for a fight. “Krista, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine in relation to me, but not him,” I say, cutting him off.

“What do you mean?” he says after a pause.

“Look, I’m used to being scrutinized, so openly judge me all you want. But don’t display your judgement of the boys when they’re literally  _ right next to you _ .”

“I wasn’t judging him; I was just wondering how he got that scar.”

“Yeah, and your expression made him feel like you thought there was something  _ wrong  _ with him,” I hiss, more venom in my words than I intend.

Asgore takes a step back, not out of intimidation but from uncertainty of how to deal with my hostility.

I sigh and drop my shoulders, realizing how tense they had become. Why am I so defensive? Why am I treating almost every conversation like a war? The reasons are obvious, but it’s been three weeks; I should have started to get better by some small degree. Yet here I am still feeling like he’ll deliver a condescending insult before locking me up and walking away.

_ Gaster’s gone _ , I repeat to myself for the hundredth time.

“I’m sorry, my point is just that, no matter how mysterious they are, we should keep our questions and concerns to ourselves. Whatever happened to them happened and they don’t remember, so we should just focus on the present and their current knowledge instead.”

Asgore slowly nods, “Alright Krista, I’ll make sure to remain aware of my thoughts and expressions around them.”

While he says it with sincerity, I can’t help but feel like he’s patronizing me. But why wouldn’t he? Here I am, a  _ human child  _ telling the  _ king of the monsters _ how to interact with beings that are arguably part of the population he rules. I have no right to give him any kind of orders. How lucky for me that he’s not the cruel being I thought he was before I met him.

I hear the door to the boys’ room open behind me, and I turn to see them emerge from it with bandanas tied around their necks. Papyrus has a light blue, and Sans has a dark maroon.

Papyrus seems to have cheered up as a light smile curls around his teeth, his brother glancing at him with a hint of concern in his eyes. Even though he seems better, the bandana is a clear sign of how Papyrus feels about his scar. I bet Sans just put one on to support him, a false emphasis that it was for fashion rather than disguising an insecurity.

I see Asgore glance at me in the corner of my eye, and I slightly raise an eyebrow, as if to tell him, “ _ Do you see why you should keep your curiosity to yourself?” _

We both look away when the boys reach us, and Papyrus cheerfully says, “Now, I think we have a puzzle to finish.”


	5. Humble Judgement

The next morning, Asgore knocks on my door right as I’m about to enter the hallway, greeting me with a shoebox in his hand.

“What’s this?” I ask, cautiously taking the box as if it’s filled with poisonous spiders.

“I guess you could call it a gift, but if you’d rather just think of it like I’m giving you a tool then you could call it that too.”

I flip open the lid and see a pair of small black-and-white sneakers resting underneath thin tissue paper, appearing to be around my size. I’d call them stylish in terms of the fashion trends I’ve seen on the Surface, yet they’re plain enough to fit my simple preferences.

I look up at Asgore, at a loss for words more-so in the sense that I haven’t been given a gift in years rather than the item itself.

“I think it’s time I finally took the three of you on a short tour of New Home, just so you know some of the surroundings outside these walls. I’ve already told the boys they can explore them a bit more without me, but I’ll show you just how far I’d prefer for you to go.” 

I nod, still unsure of what to say. “Do you want to try them on?” he suggests, and I snap out of my daze, turning to sit on my bed while I put them on.

“I bought similar pairs for the boys, but I guess they’ve never worn shoes before either; they had no idea what they were for.” That doesn’t surprise me. “I think they’ll be fine though, monsters, especially skeletons, are not as sensitive to the textures and temperatures of different surfaces anyway.” That doesn’t surprise me either. Although, admittedly, I would’ve thought Gaster couldn’t sense temperatures because he was so cold-hearted; that would’ve been a nice insult to give him.

I tie the laces the only way I know how, with two double-knotted loops. I remember my dad teaching me when I was about four, using an analogy that the laces were two rabbits running around each other. It’s most certainly childish, but the image specifically comes back to me now, after months of not practicing the skill. 

I stand up and wiggle my toes, seeing there’s about a thumb’s distance between my big toe and the tip of the shoe, a nearly perfect fit.

“Well?” Asgore asks, slightly apprehensive.

I look up and give him a smile, suddenly feeling guilty about the rude attitude I’ve directed at him off and on for the past three weeks. “Thank you, they’re a perfect fit.”

My gratitude surprises him, “Oh well, you’re welcome. I just felt that it wouldn’t be fair for you to walk around the Underground with just socks, which I noticed they look a little worse for wear. I’ll make sure to get some for you next time I’m in New Home City.”

The fact that he cares for my well-being just increases the guilt even more. “Oh, you don’t have to do that; I think they’re still fine.”

He smiles, a bit sadly, “Really Krista? I don’t have to be royalty to see that you haven’t been taken care of very well. I won’t pry, but I truly am concerned that someone treated you horribly.” 

I look down, “But that doesn’t excuse how I’ve treated you.”

“What do you mean?”

I breathe out a faint laugh, “I mean when I first met you, and when I accused you of messing with their memories. Even yesterday, when I told you to keep your concerns to yourself about the boys. All those actions were very wrong of me, and I’m sorry that I’ve been so horrible. You’ve taken me in, allowed me to sleep in your house and eat your food, and here I am, re-paying you with nothing but an ungrateful, condescending attitude.”  

I keep my eyes down in shame, reminding myself of how selfish I’ve become. Why am I always doing this? Taking people for granted seems to be a trait of mine, one that I can’t stop hating and can’t destroy. If someone’s not hurting me then I’m taking advantage of their kindness. 

I know why I’m so defensive. After months of conversations centered on insulting me, my first instinct has become placing up as many walls as possible.

_ Stop moping about all your personality flaws and try to be better _ .

I look up with sharp resolve, “So I’m sorry, and I’ll try to be better, if it’s any way of paying you back for your kindness.”

Asgore gives me another sad smile, “You don’t have to repay me for anything, dear. I’m happy to have you and the boys with me. It’s been so long since others have lived here, it’s a nice break from the silence.”

His words remind me that his past is filled with misery too. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a spouse or child, but we’ve both lost our families nonetheless.

“Well, I just want you to know that I’m grateful, Your Majesty,” I say humbly, reminding myself that while I’m a human and he’s a monster, his social status is still many levels above mine.

I move to leave the room when he catches my arm, his touch light but insistent. “Krista, I know there are many things you’re not telling me, and I’m fine with that. But at least tell me this...” I look up at him and his eyes convey the concern of a parent, it makes my heart ache. “Were you being abused when you lived on the Surface?”

My body goes rigid as a hundred incidents flash in my mind, and I know he catches the flicker of fear in my eyes. “I think you already know the answer to that question, considering how obvious my scars make it,” I say in a low voice, my face heating up when I think about explaining how I received them.

He lets go of my arm and takes a step back, his eyes cool with dismal kindness and sympathy. “Then you should know that guarantees you will always have a home here, no matter what.”

My stomach tightens at the offer, so open and generous. I can only nod before walking around him and into the living room where the boys sit. I refuse to cry over his kindness, but I can feel the choking sensation of tears rising in the back of my throat. It’s a foreign gesture to me, someone opening their arms and welcoming me into their home to make sure I’m safe. Even though it may not be true, I tell myself he’s only being kind to make up for his past mistakes. The thought at least makes it easier to smother the building tension in my throat.

***

After breakfast, Asgore leads us to the stairs along the far wall of the main entrance room, explaining how they lead out of the castle and into the last few corridors of the Underground. It makes me remember that we are technically inside his castle, yet it doesn’t look like it. I wonder if there’s somewhere in the Underground where one can have a full view of it, unlike here where I’ve only seen the humble entrance to this small area. Could it be built like the Core? With layers of levels that can only be fully seen from a distance?

We descend the gray steps with Asgore in the lead, wearing the same outfit he wore when I first met him. I wonder if that’s his official uniform for presenting himself in public, a simple method for everyone to know who the king is when they see him. The boys follow not too far behind while I keep a few paces away. It gives me a slight feeling of independence, to walk separately from the group. 

At the bottom of the steps is an extremely long hallway with a left turn at the end, gray like everything else. Asgore makes some slight commentary as we walk, and while the history seems meaningless, I enjoy hearing about it all the same.

“This passage was originally intended to be dedicated to past kings who ruled the monsters, sort of as a hall of honor. But the project was scrapped in light of how much construction was ahead of us. I told the builders to put the idea aside for some time in the future, long after we established New Home City. However, here it is, seven centuries after the city was completed, and the concept has all but been forgotten.”

“Why don’t you remind them of it now?” Papyrus asks.

“I feel it’s unnecessary, considering very few people travel this corridor. And besides, all the old kings have been forgotten. There aren’t many monsters left who fought in the war. I’m the only king most of them have ever known.”

“How long can monsters live?” the question blurts out of me without my permission. The abruptness makes me expect that he’ll ignore me or provide a vague answer, but once again the reminder comes back that he’s not You-Know-Who.

“Well, technically monsters can live forever, as long as they don’t have children. Losing a part of one’s SOUL begins the aging process, and we usually have about fifty to a hundred years after that. But if the child dies before we do, then the aging process stops, leaving us more weakened than before, but we won’t die. There’s a very strong connection between monster parents and their children, and when their individual SOUL leaves this world before we do, it leaves a gaping void that will never be filled.”

Asgore doesn’t try to hide the sorrow in his voice as he explains the details of pain he knows all too well. I wonder if I can work up the nerve to ask him how his son died, but at the same time it seems immensely rude to attempt digging into such a sensitive subject.

His explanations at least confirm my theory that Asgore’s been around since the War; I might get more answers if I ask about that rather than how his family fell apart.

At first, the idea of all monsters being able to live forever sounds a bit ridiculous to me, in terms of population. But it makes more sense if they die sometime after adding to that population with children. However, it’s still sad that one can live forever, but they’ll only know their parents for the first brief period of their lives. Of course, that’s pretty much what I’ve experienced, but most humans have their parents for at least half to the majority of their lives. I guess it can all be chalked up to the unfairness of life. I feel that the four of us know the concept better than most. 

The left turn leads to a short hallway that turns right, opening to a long path with a grand view of the city on either side.

“And this is New Home City,” Asgore says, cheerfulness returning to his voice. “A little over half of the population lives here, since most monsters prefer to not deal with weather or far traveling distances. While it is admittedly becoming more crowded than we’d like, it’s still expansive enough for reasonable living conditions.”

The familiar yet foreign sight of the city in the Underground’s daytime light makes me nervous. I know I’ve seen this  _ exact _ sight before, but from a different angle.

Are we going where I think we are? 

_ No _ . Asgore wouldn’t take us… would he? 

A million excuses begin to race through my head, anything and everything that could possibly convince him to avoid entering the Barrier room. But none of them are even remotely decent enough to not cause suspicion. 

I faintly see the golden glow on the right side at the end of the path. My anxiety is beginning to spike; I can feel it. 

_ Calm down, just deal with it when you get there _ .

My eyes shift to the boys, and the sight of them is enough to distract me from my rising fear.

They observe the city like tourists seeing their dream destinations for the first time, all wide eyes and raised brows. Papyrus looks particularly excited as his head swivels back and forth, not wanting to miss a speck of the view. Sans seems to enjoy the sight too, yet his shoulders are more tense than his supposed mood would suggest, as if he knows he was never meant to see this. His eyes suddenly dart back to me and I almost trip, thankfully only scuffing my ankle rather than face-planting. He smirks the slightest bit before facing forward, pointing out a particular building to his brother.

My throat tightens in annoyance; I know he doesn’t like me, but is he seriously going to mess with me like that? Will this become a game of him watching and glaring at me, searching for any way to make me embarrass myself? 

He doesn’t  _ look _ like Gaster, but I’m beginning to think he’s got a decent portion of the scientist’s personality. 

We turn right, entering the enormous golden hallway. Its grandeur is enough to make me forget about my arising issue with Sans, but that’s only because I remember the last time I was here. Just as my anxiety begins to return, Asgore enters another round of commentary. I force all my focus on his words, more out of desperation to ignore my fear rather than curiosity.

“This hallway is unique, as it is the only location in the Underground with this form of consistent golden lighting. It’s the closest we’ve ever gotten to sunlight. The trick with magic lighting is you need a very specific frequency when forming the color. It’s sort of how electromagnetic frequencies have the rainbow spectrum of colors. It’s very difficult for almost any monster to get it right, and those who do usually make either a pink or bluish-green. I was the only one who could create the golden color, not that I’m bragging. So I decided to place it here, reaching as close to tradition as possible.”

Asgore stops in front of the fourth window, staring up at the emblem I noticed all those weeks ago. Papyrus seems interested in what he has to say, but Sans stares at the end of the hallway. I don’t look at him for long in fear of him turning around again, but I almost swear I see his shoulders shaking.  

“You see, it was always monster tradition to judge those guilty of a crime outside, so everyone who lived in the area could witness the sentencing. For obvious reasons, that’s impossible down here. So we specifically built this hallway to be resplendent to fit the task instead, and we made sure it was near the Throne Room. When I was finally able to create those small bits of magic golden light, I knew they belonged here. Thankfully, my people are generally agreeable with each other, so there have not been too many criminals throughout the years. However, the name of this hallway will always hold true, as I feel it represents the insignificance we should all feel when guilty of our actions.” 

“So what’s it called?” Sans asks, his voice distant, yet he’s only standing a few feet away.

“The Judgement Hall,” Asgore says, the title chilling me despite its simplicity.

Judgement is an interesting concept, as it all relies on perspective. Who is to say what is right and wrong? Is it when enough people agree that something is unconditionally one way or another? Does it depend on the scenario? According to my father, his actions were justified. I’m sure Gaster had reasons beyond simply freeing the monsters that motivated him to continue torturing children day in and day out. Everyone’s judgement is either a choice or an opinion; we all have varying degrees of what we consider right and wrong. How can one determine whose judgement is more reliable than the rest? What gives someone the right to have power over the fates of others when we all have our own faults and lapses in judgement?

I see Sans glance at me in the corner of my eye. Is he thinking the same thing? Or is he wondering if he’s judged me too quickly? I hope he’s second-guessing his decision to mess with me. I honestly don’t want to play another game of skeleton-is-better-than-Krista-and-he’s-gonna-make-sure-she-knows-it. 

The sudden silence disturbs me, as Asgore stares at the symbol in the window. 

“What does that symbol mean?” I ask, my voice louder than I would like as it echoes throughout the empty hallway.

“Oh, well it’s called the Delta Rune, the emblem for the Kingdom of Monsters. It actually predates our written history, as we’ve forgotten the original meaning. What we’ve come to define it now is that the three triangles on the bottom symbolize us monsters below, and the winged circle represents the ‘angel.’”

“Angel? What’s that?” Papyrus asks.

“Well, it’s become a prophecy over the years. Some people call it a legend too, a legend that an ‘angel’ who has seen the Surface will descend from Above and bring the monsters freedom. Although, some have declared a more pessimistic possibility, that it will more likely be an ‘Angel of Death’ with the goal of, well…”

Asgore looks down, his unspoken meaning ringing loud and clear in my mind. While this “angel” could just be a human in general, I’m betting that by now it’s specifically referring to a Determination. The only trait that truly has the power to do whatever it wants to whomever it chooses.

The suggestion that the monsters are under the power of a single human makes me wonder even more why they would want that to be part of their kingdom’s emblem. Wouldn’t they want to display a false illusion of power instead? Or is the symbol their only reminder of the truth? The truth that they are hopelessly under the power of  _ my kind _ .

I glance at the gold emblem connecting Asgore’s shoulder guards. Why would he wear the symbol for the potential “Angel of Death” rather than the triangles representing his people? Is it because he truly hopes that a Determination will free them?

“Krista has seen the Surface,” Sans says, turning to face me. Hearing my name snaps me out of my train of thought, and my throat tightens when I see his eyes are black pits. “Haven’t you?”

“Y- yes, but I couldn’t break the Barrier even if I wanted to,” I say, trying not to seem too defensive.

“Really?” Papyrus asks.

“That is true, only a Determination human could break the Barrier now,” Asgore says solemnly, his eyes still on the ground.

“There’s really nothing we can do besides waiting?” Papyrus asks.

“No,” the king replies before turning to us. “So in the meantime, there are still a few more rooms to show you, come along little ones.”

His change in tone makes me wince, the illusion of happiness so glaringly false I wonder why he even bothers to pretend. Is it because it’s easier? I guess I put up a similar act with Mable, if only to see some real happiness shine from her. It was a happiness I could never have. I once thought of it as the burden of being the oldest, to make any sacrifice possible to protect my younger sibling from the misery I harbored. But now I know it wasn’t a burden. Because every laugh, every smile from her was worth a billion lashes. And now that I know how her life began and ended, the little happiness I was able to create for her was worth it. But of course, I probably should have done more.

Maybe I understand Asgore better than I think. Maybe all we both have ever tried to do is carry the pains and shoulder the burdens so no one else has to bear them. Of course, I think the other pattern in our actions is no matter how much we try to carry, there’s always enough leftover that the people we love are still hurt. 

We leave the Judgement Hall and walk down another gray hallway, turning right before reaching the entrance to the Throne Room. My heart rate picks up again, and I realize I’m biting my lip harder than normal. It’s only a couple seconds later before I taste blood. At this rate, the anticipation is bound to kill me before the Barrier does.

The Throne Room glows with an unnatural brightness as white light filters through the ivy on the ceiling. The golden flowers reflect the light back, casting the room in a similar golden glow to the Hall. 

The sudden chirping of birds surprises me, and the ache of longing makes my throat tighten, enough to smother some of my fear. Could that be actual sunlight above us? No, it couldn’t be; this room was lit just as artificially as the rest of the Underground the last time I was here. It’s obvious why I didn’t hear the birds then. The more I see of the Underground in the daytime, the happier I am that I first saw it at night. It would have been impossible to resist the temptation to run then. I probably would’ve sprinted to the Barrier room if I thought I could leave with no problems. But of course, even then I knew that no living soul can just waltz out of here alone.

“What’s that noise?” Papyrus asks, his eyes scanning the ceiling.

Asgore chuckles, “Those are birds, little creatures with feathers that allow them to fly. Some types are specifically known for the patterns of chirping noises they make, enough that we recognize them as songs. They’re not meant to live underground, but there have been a few that enter through the Barrier and make their homes in the Throne Room. I find their presences comforting, as little reminders that the Surface is just within our reach.”

I look up and spot a few jumping across the ivy branches, chirping back and forth to each other. It reminds me of when my mom taught me about songbirds, all those years ago. I see a flash of yellow and smile when a goldfinch peers down at me with a tilted head.

“Now I guess you could also call this a garden, although it’s not officially the ‘Royal Garden’, that’s located in New Home City, we actually grow food rather than just flowers there. But it was somewhat my intention to create a ‘formal garden’ when I knew I needed to have a Throne Room for royal business purposes. You see, my father preferred the strict tradition of a grand room with marble floors and a golden throne. But I feel intimidation of ‘inferiors’ is unnecessary, especially when I don’t have to worry about meeting diplomats from other nations down here. So I wanted it to be more like a garden, a place of comfort and simplicity rather than enforcement of royal power.”

Asgore walks to the throne in the center of the room, placing a hand on the armrest. 

The throne itself is about as wide as his shoulders, as if someone designed it to be a snug fit when he sat in it. 

The king chuckles a bit to himself, “This throne is more for show than anything. It’s the only reason this is called the ‘Throne Room’ after all. I never understood why most kings preferred to sit on thrones that dwarfed them in size; I think it made them seem smaller rather than more powerful as they intended. I wanted this dusty thing to be designed the same as my crown, so small you can barely notice it’s meant for a king.”

“But wouldn’t you want to display your power? To show how much stronger you are in comparison to everyone else?” Sans asks with a small bite of resentment in his voice. The memories may be gone, but no one can forget the  _ feeling _ of insignificance in the presence of someone who wants their power to be known. 

“True, it does seem like the more logical option, intimidating all who interact with me. But I don’t believe in such a self-centered ideology. Being king does not mean I am better than anyone else just because it is my ‘birthright.’ I am doing my job to contribute to society just as much as they are. Sure, my line of work is much more unique, and it carries certain perks. However, I won’t flaunt them simply because my job is what people would consider the ‘height of society.’ I won’t ridicule the very citizens I have been trying to help.” 

While Asgore says it all in a calm tone, I hear the hints of defensiveness in his voice. I wonder if someone once encouraged him to be less humble about his power as a monarch. Or perhaps his father had always expected him to follow in his footsteps of grandeur, and Asgore had disappointed him.

“Anyway, there is still one more room for me to show you before we head back for the day,” the king says, his false happiness returning.

He turns and walks through the dark entrance into the gray area before the Barrier room. 

The boys calmly follow him, but my paranoia kicks into overdrive. Every single step towards the Barrier feels like digging a knife deeper into my chest; it’s a betrayal of my every instinct to run away.

We turn the corner to the final hallway before the entrance to the room, and the three of them walk through without so much as a second thought. I stop in the doorway, already feeling the pressure of pain on my SOUL, or maybe that’s just how powerful my anxiety has become. 

They stand in the room of black and white infinity, Asgore explaining what it is to the boys. I start to back away from the entrance, my brain fumbling for any possible excuse to avoid being forced to join them.

Asgore doesn’t seem to notice that I’m not present, and I inch towards the end of the hallway. But just as I’m about to completely step away from the entrance, Sans turns around. 

I almost choke on the lump forming in my throat when his gaze lands on me, accusing yet curious. He slightly raises his right eye socket, his head tilting towards Asgore as if he’s about to say something. 

I furiously shake my head, digging my teeth into the bleeding wound inside my lip. There’s not much else I can do to convince him; he’s probably relishing at such an easy method to humiliate me. 

Yet something stops him; Sans’ eyes squint at me in analyzation, but is there an emotion like understanding in them? 

“Speaking of which, where’s Krista?” Asgore asks. I turn away from the entrance and slam my back against the wall. While I’m sure he can sense my SOUL, at least he can’t directly see my fear.

“Oh, she just wanted to stay back in the Throne Room. She said she really missed being in a garden and besides, does it really matter whether or not she sees the Barrier room? It’s just empty and gloomy, nothin’ like how cheerful those birds and golden flowers are.”

My eyes widen at Sans’ voice, casually defending me. He could have so easily thrown me under the bus if he wanted to; his opportunity was right there!

“Oh true, besides, we should head back anyway. You little ones can visit what I’ve shown you today on your own if you’d like. All I ask is that you do not enter the Barrier room, for safety reasons.”

I sprint down the hallway before they turn the corner, throwing myself back among the golden flowers. I make sure to stand near the midpoint of the room and inspect the dark ivy climbing up the walls, as if I haven’t moved at all.

It’s difficult to keep my breaths quiet; after months of inactivity and lack of nutrition, my body is nowhere near prepared to exert the amount of energy required for even short sprints. Not to mention the painful strain of the handful of scars that never healed properly; they always provide a special slash of sting every time I run.

I see Asgore and the boys enter in the corner of my eye, and I turn to them as if I just noticed they had left.

“Oh sorry, the garden and the birds just really remind me of home. Is there anything important for me to see in the next room?” I ask innocently, perhaps too innocently as Asgore’s brows furrow the slightest bit.

“No, I actually told the boys to not enter that room anyway, so you’re fine if this is the farthest you go on your own.”

“Alright then,” I comply, happier to avoid that room than he’d ever understand.

We walk back in silence, the king giving us a chance to observe the New Home portion of his kingdom with our full attention. It really is beautiful, but I think the beauty is as much of a facade as Asgore’s cheerfulness is: a method of disguising misery.

When we get back to the house, (it feels like a house rather than a castle to me), Asgore clears his throat, instantly gaining our attention.

“I’m making dinner a little earlier tonight because I am going to an event planned by our Royal Scientist at six-thirty. Her ‘big project’ that she’s been working on for nearly four and a half years is now complete, along with the construction of a resort she designed to pair with it. I have faith that you little ones are responsible enough to behave, right?”

He says the last sentence like a joke, but I hear the seriousness in it too. I wonder if the same scenario ever occurred with his son, and something terrible happened as a result.

“Of course we’ll be good!” Papyrus says, his defense coming so fast I would’ve thought he was lying if I didn’t know him better.

Asgore chuckles, “Then I’ll make sure not to worry; I trust that you three won’t have any problems.”

The king heads for his room, probably to change so he won’t splatter anything on his cape when he cooks dinner. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about his culinary skills, it’s that he always seems to make a mess  _ somehow _ .

I feel a sharp elbow nudge my shoulder, and I jump, turning to see Sans smirking at me. 

“Yeah… no problems,” he says with a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Asgore thought about it, he'd question why it was so easy for him to explain how the Hall's lighting worked. Perhaps in another time, he enjoyed listening to a Royal Scientist's enthusiastic (and slightly complicated) explanations.


	6. A Broken King

After a small dinner of a very simple potato stew, Asgore leaves through the front entrance rather than the back staircase. I’m not surprised, but I make the mental note of it to add to how I imagine the Underground is designed. Whatever this “resort” is it’s clearly either hidden many walls behind us or somewhere in the city. 

At first, I’m a little scared that the king’s absence will cause Sans to make good on his hint that there will be problems. Yet, both the boys go back to their room and shut the door. Of course, Papyrus invites me to work on a puzzle with them, but Sans waves the offer away with the suggestion that his brother work on them with  _ him _ instead. True, I have been helping Papyrus with puzzles much more often than his brother, but it’s obvious the suggestion is only Sans’ method of excluding me. 

I try to pretend that it doesn’t bother me, deciding I should just take a shower and go to bed despite how early it is. I gather the comfy pink pajama pants and the matching button-down top I found in the cabinets under the main doors on my wardrobe. Pink hasn’t been my color in about a decade, but it’s the last set that I haven’t worn since I discovered them about a week after I first arrived. Whoever had these pajamas last didn’t like pink either, considering how buried they were. At least the bright color is slightly interrupted by dark blue and green hearts. 

It makes me wonder just  _ whose _ clothes they were. They’re too small to be the queen’s, unless I’m just overestimating what her size was. As far as I’ve learned, Asgore only had a son, but then, why are there clothes intended for a girl? It’s just another question I’m not sure whether or not I should ask.  

Like all the other clothes, the pajamas are a bit long on me, but when it comes to needing more warmth, I prefer to wear something loose anyway. The temperature is not nearly as cold as the lab, but the stone walls create a chill that I’m sure hangs over the entire Underground, except maybe in Hotland. Now that I’ve switched my calendar to a summer month, the picture of the volcanic area makes me curious. I’m actually hopeful that Asgore will take us on a tour of his entire kingdom; the idea gives me a sense of excitement I haven’t felt in years.

I take my pajamas to the bathroom, eager as always to feel the warmth of the clean water. The noise is also a relief for me, as I’ve noticed more often that silence is becoming a plague rather than the comfort it used to be.

At home, silence was a good thing. It meant  _ he _ wasn’t there, or at the very least he wasn’t angry for the time being. I grew to enjoy it over the years; it meant we were safe. But when Mom was alive, the house was never quiet. If we weren’t talking or laughing, she was playing music. I don’t know what my father did with the piano after she died, but it disappeared within less than a month. I always wished I had learned to play it, if only to have just one more connection with who she was. If she wasn’t playing then she had the radio on, usually on the channel that only played songs from their childhood and teen years. I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what songs were hits when I was little, but I knew what my parents’ were. 

Now that I’ve hopefully gained what one would consider “freedom,” the silence feels like a heavy, suffocating fog. It’s a calm before the next violent, painful storm. Silence means there’s something to fear, something to hide from. Well, in my case it has always been some _ one _ . Will I ever be able to associate it with what normal people think of when things are quiet? Silence  _ should _ mean peace, relaxation, a time to rest. And here I wallow in it in fear, pondering questions that probably don’t even matter as my subconscious waits for the “peace” to be shattered by the slam of a door or the echoes of footsteps down a hallway.

It makes me feel like I’m beginning to split my life into parts, or maybe I’ve always done that. Part One was life with a loving, wholesome family. Part Two was growing up with an abusive father and a fearful sister. Part Three was months of isolation and torture in a dark lab. Of course, most of the torture was my own mind punishing me with guilt over what ended Part Two. And now Part Four, a new reality that I’m struggling to adjust to: life with a goat-like king and two skeletons. 

My life as a whole? I don’t know how to sum it up. In some parts, strange. In others, incredibly unfair. Am I happy? Well, I’m only as happy as I can be, depending on whatever situation I’ve fallen into for the time being.

I shake my head. This is what the silence does to me. I overthink and overthink and overthink everything I can’t change and everything I wish I could’ve controlled. There’s absolutely no point to it, yet it’s become my new version of personal torment.

I toss my pajamas on the counter next to the sink, prepared to shut the door when something clicks in my mind. I turn around and see that Asgore’s light is on, but his door is closed. I know why it bothers me, and that my brain has only just noticed it because I’ve pulled myself out of the dark spiral of thoughts.

At home, the idea of electricity was precious. It was a luxury on the rare occasions that we actually could afford it. Well, when  _ I _ could afford it and my money wasn’t stolen.

It shouldn’t matter to me here; I’m in a  _ palace _ of all places. It’s the last location in the Underground that would need to worry about a lack of electricity. But I can only deny my instincts so much now, especially when I fought them for months.

I walk to his room and quietly open the door, telling myself to flip the light switch and leave. But of course, curiosity is another instinct that plagues me.

His room is gray like everything else, but slightly larger than either of the other two bedrooms. Along the right wall is a desk with a lamp and an open book resting on the wooden surface. The chair in front of the desk is pulled out, as if he had just been sitting in it before he left. To the left of the desk is a king-sized bed with a tiny rug next to it, the only piece of carpet on the paneled floor. 

A couple of picture frames hang on the wall above the bed, but only one of them is displaying an image. I step closer and see that it is macaroni art of a flower, mostly likely a golden flower. Underneath it, written in what looks to be a child’s handwriting is “ _ For King Dad!’ _ ” 

My throat tightens, almost bringing the briefest mist of tears to my eyes. I remember making stupid little drawings for my parents, and while they kept them, they were never framed. Obviously, art skills as pitiful as mine aren’t meant to be framed, and maybe Asgore didn’t frame this until after his son died. But still, the gesture of putting it in a frame shows how much a seemingly worthless gift means to him. 

A short, but wide dresser sits in the left corner with another lamp on top of it, enough to illuminate the room, giving it a strange white glow. A mirror about the same length as the dresser hangs above it, and I wince at the sight of my too-thin face. Of course, I could change my appearance if I actually  _ tried _ to eat more often, but the best I can manage is a few bites at dinner. “Breakfast” is now just me sitting awkwardly at the table while the others eat; my presence is simply so Asgore and Papyrus don’t feel like they’re excluding me. I know for certain that Sans doesn’t feel guilty about pretending I don’t exist. Why would he? Maybe he’s the smartest one out of the three of them. Maybe he sees me for what I truly am... 

I turn away from the mirror to observe the rest of the room, realizing that simply looking at myself summons all the self-degrading thoughts I try to ignore.

A bureau twice my height sits to the right of the dresser with a pot of golden flowers on top of it, the only speck of color among tints of white and gray. The only other visible object in the room is a trophy in the corner opposite to the dresser. Even though it’s silver, there’s a number 1 proudly displayed on its face. An inscription on the back says “ _ Number 1 Nose-Nuzzle Champs ‘98!” _ in ebony text. I can’t help but smile a little when I recognize the font as Helvetica, but then I frown when I realize it’s a clear sign that my brain has been truly fried from staring at the different ways to shape letters for the past couple months.

Just underneath the inscription is the number 1098 underlined, as if someone wanted to make sure that anyone who saw this trophy would understand its meaning. It only takes a moment for the realization to dawn on me, that the number represents a _year_. Without thinking, I would’ve thought it meant the year 1998, but it isn’t. This championship was more than nine hundred years ago! I shouldn’t be surprised, considering they’re monsters and they practically live forever, but the sheer concept of living for that long baffles me. I already feel like I’ve lived a pretty long life, but I know that sounds crazy to even an adult human. I’m still just a kid, useless in the eyes of society’s demands.

The idea that Asgore was a “Nose-Nuzzle Champion” is actually a little funny to me. I assume his partner in the competition was the queen. I have no idea how a competition like that is judged; I’d say the experts on nuzzling would be either dogs or rabbits. The thought makes me squint a bit. I hope I didn’t just accurately guess that there are dog-like or rabbit-like monsters. But the fact that the  _ king _ has similar features to a goat, or that the ( _ now _ ) Royal Scientist is similar to a lizard, it might actually be a safe bet to assume that monsters are almost like magical versions of normal animals. Of course, skeletons are the rare exception.

I should stop looking around before my theories become actual questions. I can practically hear Asgore asking why I would wonder such things in the first place. 

I spot the light switch on the wall to the right of the desk and head towards it, but not before my eyes glance down at the open book. 

My stomach jumps when I spot my name written on the page in neat, cursive handwriting. Today’s date is written in the top right corner.

Asgore keeps a  _ diary _ ? Well, I guess calling it a journal would be a more formal method of describing it. But still, the fact is slightly surprising to me. I guess it makes sense, considering he’s both the king and pretty much immortal. For one, it’s a great way of keeping track of events to deal with future problems as a ruler. For two, if my days were endless, I’d want to see how my life changed over the centuries. It’d be interesting to look back on. 

Asgore just left about ten minutes ago; it wouldn’t hurt to glance through a little bit of what he’s written, would it?

My body makes a decision before my brain does, and I slide into the chair, scooting it closer to the desk. The back of my mind tells me this is wrong; it’s an invasion of his privacy. But then again, is the king as trustworthy as he seems? The thought is enough to make me read.

_ I showed them the last few corridors of the Underground today. I’m hoping they’ll have a greater sense of freedom now that they know what the paths look like. Toriel would be proud that I’m encouraging them to explore on their own; she always said I was too protective of Asriel.  _

Was this “Toriel” the queen? Was the prince named Asriel? It seems that’s what he’s implying, but I guess I shouldn’t assume anything.

_ The three of them had their own levels of curiosity concerning different topics, as expected. Sans seems to have a particular interest in the Judgement Hall, perhaps I can discuss it with him alone, just to see what his opinions are. I’m not sure what it is, but he seems slightly… disturbed by it. Papyrus is as enthusiastic as ever, I think he simply enjoys learning new things overall. And Krista… she’s different every time I interact with her. She seemed guilty this morning over her actions yesterday, but I don’t blame her. I have always been a little too inquisitive of others, and these children have been no exception. There are just so many questions I have! _

_ It still baffles me that the boys know so little yet they learn so quickly. They seem to be at least a decade and a half old, based on how mature they are. However, it’s as if they’re learning what the world is for the first time. However, there are some topics they don’t question. The concept of the Barrier didn’t seem new to them.  _

_ I’ve been trying to endure the situation with as much patience and open-mindedness as possible, but every now and then I almost want to list every question I have, if only to find  _ _ some _ _ sort of vague answer from them. _

_ Krista is a different story. Unlike what I’m beginning to accept as almost complete amnesia from the boys, I am  _ _ certain _ _ she is aware of more than she’s leading on. The first and most obvious fact is how she knew the elevator button was R-70 on the day we met. Another is how she claimed the human SOULs told her I had murdered them. Did she find the basement? There is no way she could have found the actual SOULs. Unless, did she hear them when she entered through the Barrier? The book on fonts she has is another strange fact. What human would carry that with them to the Underground? I’d like to assume that she was simply observant and elusive when she lived in the Underground on her own, as she says. But her claim of someone else being the Royal Scientist is very troubling to me. Is it odd that the idea seems possible? I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about the questions she’s asked, or the things she knows, that hint at the possibility of a monster scientist having involvement in her presence here. While it’s probably ridiculous speculations, I can’t help but wonder. Not even I fully understand the strange magic that permeates the Underground, there’s nothing monster-like or humanesque about it. _

_ I don’t want to interrogate Krista, (although I feel like that’s what we were doing to each other that first night), but it does trouble me that she’s keeping secrets. Of course, the unfortunately obvious ones such as her appearance are topics I won’t dare to discuss with her. Yet her silence also saddens me. What caused those scars on her neck? Are they all over her back? Why was she so undernourished when I found her? And why has she barely gotten any better? Why would someone abuse her yet simultaneously teach her self-defense with magic?  _

_ I truly want to take care of her, but I can tell she doesn’t trust me. I don’t blame her, which is why I won’t dig for answers either. Perhaps I can simply help Krista move on from whatever happened to her. It would be a fresh start for all of them at once. _

_ I hope she’ll visit the garden on her own, considering how happy it made her. Yet she seemed to have some sort of hesitance when we went to the Barrier room. I didn’t even see her enter it. Does she know that the Barrier can affect humans? Maybe she learned that when she entered the Underground through it.   _

_ I wish I could still sense SOULs, but that piece of me was lost to Asriel’s creation. I truly don’t know if she followed us or not. It’s just another topic that I know I shouldn’t discuss with her. _

_ Krista’s secrecy reminds me of Chara, only Chara eventually told us about how horrible her life was on the Surface. Asriel helped her talk through the pain the memories caused. _

_ It’s wrong of me to compare the two girls; they are very different people. Unfortunately, having children living in my home again makes me think of how life used to be. It gives the slight illusion that the irreplaceable can somehow be replaced. _

_ I shouldn’t get too sentimental; Alphys is unveiling her “big project” tonight, after all these years. I’ve only gained hints, as she insisted that it would be a grand surprise. It was something about a robot with a SOUL that had enough talent to become the Underground’s biggest star. If it’s as talented as she says it is, then it will be the Underground’s first and only celebrity, not that it would be a difficult task to achieve. She’s designed a resort to pair with it, intended for people to have a new outlet in gaining some vague enjoyment in a life surrounded by darkness.  _

_ I approved the project due to her enthusiasm and so there would be a new main entrance to the Core. That area was always cluttered with construction materials and electrical wires. Maybe this resort will make people less fearful of our power source if it has an inviting entrance.  _

_ I’ve kept some awareness of the resort’s construction, but not as much as I should. Hopefully the children will gain more confidence in being independent. As much as I love having them here, I also have to remember all the work I’ve usually drowned myself in. The most I’ve ever done for “fun” in my personal time is taken some time to water the garden. Maybe I should take the children to more areas in the Underground; I think it might be good for all of us. Of course, there is the slight probability of conflict with the monsters who will recognize Krista as a human. But I know they’ll accept her if they see her with me. Many forget that we specifically need a  _ _ Determination _ _ human to break the Barrier, Undyne included.  _

_ All in all, I just want these children to gain confidence, and I don’t want them to be fearful of what little piece of the world they can experience. _

I try to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat, but I can’t. So many questions fill my head that I’m not even sure I’m processing all the information I just read. So I focus on the general aspect that he wrote a considerable amount for a single day’s journal entry. However, I’m noticing that more and more about Asgore, how much he enjoys explaining things to others. It’s not that he likes to hear himself talk, but that he’s making sure those who listen are given as much information as possible. It makes me wonder if he’s any good at keeping secrets... probably not.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Asgore’s voice makes me jump out of the chair, knocking it over and stumbling back against the bedpost.

I expect to hear him chuckle at my reaction, but when I look at him, there’s nothing but faint sadness in his honey eyes.

“I- I’m sorry. I saw your light was on and I meant to turn it off and leave, but when I glanced at your book, I saw my name and it scared me so, uh…”

My brain can’t come up with a pathetic excuse fast enough, leaving me to look like nothing more than a guilty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Asgore quietly sighs, taking a few steps forward to shut the journal and place the chair back under the desk.

“You’re curious, I understand. While I don’t appreciate this particular method of satisfying that curiosity, I can tell you’re afraid to ask me questions directly.”

He walks to the other side of the room, only briefly glancing at himself in the mirror before turning to me. “But if you’re feeling up to it, you can ask me any questions you want. I won’t take offense, but I do ask that you answer at least one or two of mine. I won’t push for detailed answers, but honestly Krista, you don’t have anything to fear.”

Questions for answers; we’ll trade them to each other. Like hell I don’t have anything to fear, he has no idea  _ who _ this situation reminds me of.

I duck my head slightly, attempting to hide the uneasiness I feel as the memories resurface.

“Would it help if I asked first?” he says kindly.

“Sure,” I say in a hoarse whisper, as if the reminders are trying to choke me. 

_ Breathe _ .

“Are you afraid because of something that happened when you lived on the Surface?”

Yes. 

No.

It’s more than that.

All of the above.

“Yes,” I say, absentmindedly rubbing my forearm. My  _ right _ forearm, specifically. I’ve noticed it has become a habit over the past month, especially when I’m uncomfortable. I wonder if it’s just to remind myself that I’ve survived worse, an encouragement that I can get through this new problem too.

“Okay, so then-”

“Who’s Chara?” I blurt out, my hand stopping just above my wrist, searching for the bump of a scar that no longer exists.

He smiles a bit at my pronunciation of the name. “It’s pronounced ‘Cara,’ like how the name is said without the ‘h.’ I don’t know why her parents chose to spell it that way, or maybe it was her own choice, but that’s how she insisted it to be spelled.”

It seems to me like that was her choice. But then, does that mean she hated her parents so much she wanted to change her name? But why would she make such a subtle and confusing alteration? What difference would it make if it was pronounced the same as her given name? Maybe I’m assuming too much about a girl I know nothing about.

“So who is she?”

His smile drops and he looks at the empty picture frames above his bed. “She was… many things. Strong. Fiercely protective. Curious. Hopeful.” He pauses, his brow furrowing. “But she was also angry and secretive. There was something very dark that she kept buried her whole life. Chara never spoke of it, but you could feel it whenever you were near her, especially on her bad days.”

Asgore sighs, as if the memory of the girl is too painful to speak about, but my curiosity is more powerful than my sympathy. 

“How did you meet her?”

“She fell into the Underground when we still lived in what we now call the Ruins. My wife, Toriel, and son, Asriel, lived with me in those days.” He nods to his journal, confirming what he knows I read. “He found her, and the two children quickly became friends, best friends, as they loved to say. Eventually, we adopted Chara as a member of our family. We thought she was a sign of the possible peace that could arise between our races. But like all good things, our family was not meant to last. It was six years of happiness, before-” He cuts himself off, his voice tightening with the choking grip of sorrow.

My guilt returns and I quickly say, “I’m really sorry, you don’t have to explain it to me.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I want to.” 

If he’s trying to prove a point, such as his insistence that he’s trustworthy, I’d be less willing to listen. But the genuine  _ despair _ in his eyes tells me this is a story he hasn’t told anyone. He’s buried his emotions for however long it’s been since he lost his family, and maybe they’ve finally worked their way back to the surface after all this time. It could just be that I’m the only one he’s spoken to who doesn’t know what happened, considering I’m sure the rest of the kingdom would learn how they lost their queen, prince, and I guess Chara would be considered the “princess.” Since everyone else knew, he didn’t have a chance to talk to someone who understood in a different light. Someone who also carried the burden of sorrow but didn’t personally know those he lost.

Should I talk to him about what happened with Mable? Would that help me? 

_ No _ . I’ve dealt with it, and the mere thought of trying to explain what happened…

I bury the thoughts, refusing to let my own pain selfishly arise when I should direct all my attention to what he has to say. What he  _ needs _ to say.  

Asgore sighs, the faintest chuckle underneath his breath. “Buttercups are different from the golden flowers. They’re smaller, and their scent is more potent, almost to the point of unpleasantness. They usually grow among the golden flowers, which can confuse those who are unfamiliar with the differences. Despite their friendly name and bright appearance, they’re deadly little flowers. I had gotten very sick from eating them when the kids accidentally baked them into a butterscotch pie. The recipe had called for ‘cups of butter,’ but the children misunderstood the phrase for ‘buttercups’ instead. Toriel and Asriel were very upset, yet Chara laughed it off like it was a joke that only she understood. Eventually, the incident was forgotten as I forgave them for the mistake.

“A few months later, we had finally settled into New Home, albeit a much more ‘rural’ New Home. It was four days before her birthday actually, when Chara suddenly began to show the same symptoms I had after consuming buttercups. It started out as fatigue, but quickly declined into blisters and near paralysis within a matter of hours. I suppose it was because she was so young or maybe because the flowers can poison humans faster, considering your magic is not linked to your survival, that she didn’t live.”

Asgore looks away from the empty picture frames, placing a hand on the dresser below the mirror. I can see the slight trembling in his hands, and I feel that Chara’s death is a minor pain in comparison to what happens in the rest of the story.

“Before she died, she made one last request: to see the golden flowers in her home village. I didn’t think it was possible for Chara to just leave the Underground on her own, so I asked if the flowers already down here were enough. But she insisted that it had to be her  _ home _ , to see the place where her life began, one last time. Toriel and I tried to be gentle, to explain to her why we couldn’t fulfill her wish, but she didn’t want to hear it. So she asked if she could have a few moments alone with Asriel, and we came in here to not eavesdrop. Toriel was so worried; she had always been a bit too overprotective of her children. She said the same about me; I guess we both were... In that moment, all I could do was lie to her, saying that everything would be alright. Chara was strong, and if I could survive, then surely a human could. But of course, we both knew I was fabricating a false sense of comfort. What else can you do when you already know deep down that you’ll soon lose your child?

“When we came back to their room a few minutes later, they were gone. There was only one place we could assume they went, and when we reached the Barrier room, well… that creature was not my son holding Chara. I had seen the terrifying result of the combination of a human and a monster SOUL only once, a short time before the War. And what I saw carry her body out of the Underground that day was a very similar creature. 

“Toriel and I waited by the Barrier for what felt like hours, and the creature came back empty-handed. There were arrows sticking in all parts of its body, and it said, ‘I could have killed them all, but I didn’t,’ in Asriel’s voice. In the blink of an eye, the creature turned back into Asriel, and we tried to help him walk as he stumbled into the garden. Between his shallow breaths, he told us how they attacked him. They thought he had killed Chara and attacked him out of fear. Asriel simply smiled at them before he placed her on a bed of golden flowers and walked away. He only made it halfway through the Throne Room before he collapsed, his dust spreading all over the golden flowers.”

Asgore’s voice cuts off and he turns away, covering his mouth to stifle a sob. I bite my lip to hold back the handful of tears burning behind my eyes, unable to even fathom how painful it must be to watch your child die right in front of you.

“The next day,” he says, his voice tight, “after the initial shock wore off, we told our people what had happened. And they lost all the hope that Chara had brought to them. Everything had been taken from us by the  _ humans _ once again.” My throat tightens at how he says ‘humans,’ like an accusation. “We had a funeral for the children, and afterwards… I can’t really explain what came over me. I couldn’t stop staring at the garden, knowing that almost all of those flowers were covered in his dust… it made me angry rather than mournful. I couldn’t even count how many times I had lost something to humans, but this time it was my entire  _ family _ paying the price. The thought made me so furious that I declared war on humanity, stating that I would destroy any human that came down here. When I had enough SOULs, I would use them to become godlike and free us from this prison. Then, I would destroy all of humanity on the Surface, giving us monsters the peace and freedom we deserve.” 

Every word feels like an accusation against my existence, as if every bit of what I am has hurt him in some way. I suddenly feel even guiltier for how rude I’ve been to him. Asgore could’ve easily killed me when he first saw me, especially if his anger was still as raw as it was after his children died.

“My declaration of war reignited some of the people’s hope, but my wife however, was disgusted with my actions. She left this place and was never seen again.”

He finally turns back to me, and I wonder if he was too ashamed of his actions to have the strength to look me in the eye when he explained them. 

“Truthfully, I do not want power, and I don’t want to hurt anyone. Succumbing to my anger brought about more pain than progress towards happiness. Yes, we have six SOUL traits now, and only one more is needed to break the Barrier. But am I proud of how I reached that accomplishment? No. I’ve only wanted my people to have hope. And now, all I want is to see my family rather than live on the Surface. But I feel that neither of those options are possible now.” 

I can only stare at him as he lowers his head in shame, a broken king. What can I say to help him? Is there anything that _ can _ be said?

“You don’t think a Determination human will fall?” is all I can say, sounding stupid in the quiet aftermath of his tragic story.

I hear the faintest scoff under his breath, but I don’t take offense. 

_ Why couldn’t you have said something encouraging? He just told you how he lost his entire family in one day! _

“It seems very unlikely, considering it’s been over nine hundred years since the last one fell,” he says.

_ Wait _ . “Chara was-”

“Yes, she was a Determination. Ironic, isn’t it? The first human to fall carried the rarest trait, but we loved her too much to think of her as just a SOUL to use against the Barrier. And I don’t regret taking her in as a child of our own. Even if I knew for certain that another Determination would never fall, I wouldn’t take Chara’s SOUL. The only way I was able to even stomach taking the other humans’ SOULs was just to remind myself of my anger. I couldn’t look any of them in the eyes, knowing what I had to do to them. Which I guess that’s what brings us full circle to you, Krista.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, still hung up on all the pieces in my mind, begging to be put together.

“I know you’ve probably figured out by now what my story means, that technically, you could leave the Underground right now if you wished to. It only takes a human SOUL and a monster’s to pass through the Barrier. Of course, it would only work for the two individuals, but I know that’s all you would need anyway.”

My eyes widen when I understand what he’s implying: he’s offering me a chance to leave, to go home, and to see the sun.

“I don’t want to hurt you, I have no reason to. If you want it put bluntly, your SOUL ‘has no value to me,’ which I mean in the politest manner possible.” I smirk a bit at that. “And I’m sure you want to go home, considering how you never meant to enter the Underground in the first place.”

Well, I  _ technically _ meant to, but I didn’t expect to survive.

I sigh, rubbing the soft cotton of my sleeve against my forearm. How much should I tell him?

“I… I have no reason to return to the Surface. Before I left, I uh... lost the last person I loved. Sure, there are maybe one or two others I care about, but they’re fine without me. If you don’t mind a human living in your kingdom, I’d like to stay in the Underground, please.”

Asgore’s brows furrow, but he eventually nods. “Of course, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, suddenly feeling the urge to be alone, to collect my thoughts. “I’ll uh, get out of your room now.”

I walk towards the door, placing my fingers on the handle when he quietly says, “Krista.”

I turn, lightly biting the inside of my lip when I see faint tears in his eyes. 

“Who hurt you?” he asks.

I feel like a stone has been lodged in my throat, the question one that I’ve always dreaded to hear from an adult.

“My father,” I reply, my voice cautiously soft. It hurts to admit it out loud, after years of hiding the truth from others and months of fighting to appear strong when someone else finally learned the majority of my pathetic tale.

Instead of pity, like I’d expect, I see a flicker of rage in the king’s eyes. “I’m very sorry; he must be truly lost to even think to harm his daughter.”

It’s not a helpful response, but I don’t blame him considering I didn’t know what to say after his story.

“He was lost, but I’m not sure who or what is to blame for that.”

“What happened to your mother?” Asgore carefully asks. 

After all he’s told me, it’s only fair to give him some explanation. 

“She died when I was seven, and that was when he changed. It was so sudden, that I don’t think he knew how to deal with the grief. Instead of working through it and finding closure, I think he held on to all the anger he felt. He found solace in alcohol instead of treasuring the pieces of her that remained.”

“You?”

“And my little sister,” I say, feeling the tears return.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” Asgore says, understanding why there’s nothing left for me on the Surface.

A tear falls without my permission, and I quickly swipe it away.

“So uh, goodnight,” I say, stepping out into the hallway and quietly pulling the door shut.

I hear him softly say “goodnight” on the other side, and I walk to my room to grab my shoes. I can’t sleep now, and I definitely don’t want to sit still. So I walk down the steps and dim hallways to the bridge with the view of New Home City. 

I’m halfway across the bridge when I finally stop, realizing that my walking had transformed into a jog. The lack of air catches up to my body, and I focus on slowing my breaths.

That’s the first time I’ve ever talked about what happened to my family to someone who actually  _ cares _ . Of course, I haven’t interacted with many people in the past few months, but still, the realization is jarring. It makes me all the more emotional about the idea.

_ Don’t think about your family, think about Chara. _

Right, it’s the only thing that will keep me from bursting into tears.

I almost laugh when I realize that thinking about Chara terrifies me instead, as the pieces neatly fit together, like when Papyrus understands how the last ones fit in his puzzles.

Chara  _ is _ that red-eyed girl. The one who interrupted my first session. The creature that easily made Gaster seem as defenseless as the rest of us. The demon that burned the flesh off my forearm and acted as if she knew my future.

Does she? Her spiel about Gaster being erased from existence seems to have come true. How does she have that power? How can she change forms and interrupt realistic dream tests when there is simply enough “magical influence?”

There’s no one else she could be, the green and yellow striped shirt says it all. I shudder when I realize that I’m wearing what were once  _ her clothes _ . I’ll admit she was tall for her age, although I’m considerably short for mine. 

The question of “how?” is all that keeps coming back to me, and I have no explanation. Being a Determination isn’t enough, she’s human, after all. 

Asgore did say in his journal that there’s a strange magic that permeates the Underground. Does that have a link to her? Was her SOUL still inside Asriel when he came back through the Barrier?

I rub my eyes before moving to my temples, a headache sneaking its way across my brows.

I just don’t know, and it’s not like I can  _ ask _ anybody about it. Am I meant to have all this knowledge with no one to share it with? First Gaster, now Chara. Is burying it and moving on the best I can do?

I drop my hands and look up, my eyes widening when it looks like millions of dim stars shining above in various shades of white and cyan. I’m not surprised that I didn’t notice them the other times I was here, considering those I traveled with.

Now, with nothing but the faintest breeze to interrupt the silence, I get to appreciate the view in its full glory. The lights flicker the slightest bit, adding an effect that makes them seem so much like stars. Some of them brighten and dim at different intervals, but always faint enough that it’s not bright like the Underground daytime. A few lights are visible in various buildings, and in one of them I pick up the shadows of two figures. Based on what I can see, they seem to be in good moods, the outlines of their shoulders relaxed and their hands moving as they talk.

I close my eyes and lift my head to feel the breeze, focusing all my attention on how soothing it feels. It’s a nice break from all the worrying and wondering. I have a chance to  _ breathe _ , even though the back of my mind tells me to search for danger, to fear the unknown of this place. The thought begs the question: can I, a human, survive in a world full of monsters? I’m not sure. I can only hope that Asgore will protect me. Is it selfish of me to expect that from him? The idea seems strange, considering no one has ever protected me when others have attacked. I don’t count when Gaster fought the creature, I still believe he was solely motivated to protect the boys. I doubt Sans believed that was his reason, but I do.

Sans. What is his deal? Why is he so suspicious of me? I would think he’d be watching Asgore, considering he’s the figure of authority. But he seems to have no problem with the king. It’s just me, the  _ human _ . But… why!?

“You know something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In relation to this chapter, there is one detail in the game that I'm choosing to omit in this story: that is the implication that Chara arrived in the Underground during a 201X year. (Since, as seen in the Genocide Route, the date circled is said in red text to be the one they arrived in the Underground.) I prefer to believe that Chara arrived only about a century after the War ended (so I'm gonna use that here!).  
> (I have an explanation for how the recordings exist that you find in the True Lab [since "modern" technology like VHS tapes didn't exist during the time she was alive in this story], but that'll show up later down the road.)


	7. The Only Ones Cursed to Remember

I just about leap out of my skin when I hear Sans to my left. His voice makes me jump back, my body prepared for a fight. He stands there with a judgmental expression, the whites of his eyes nothing more than two pinpricks of light.

Not only did I not hear him at all, but the fact that he spoke in _Wingdings_ adds to my panic. I haven’t heard either of the boys use their first language since they learned English. True, it hasn’t been that long, but the fact that Sans chooses it to speak with me now most likely means he’s _deadly_ serious. It also doesn’t help that his voice has gotten deeper over the weeks. While Papyrus’ has only deepened a bit, enough that one would consider him in his early teens, the childish quality seems to remain. While for Sans, the soft, curious, and slightly fearful tone he had when I first met him has gradually faded into something much stronger. It’s almost scary how his voice resonates the commanding tone Gaster had. At least it’s not as sharp or professional, but it _is_ measured, as if he’s choosing specific tones to convey a mood he wants me to see. That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the mood he actually has.

“Sans! Uh, I didn’t hear you!” I say, my panicked voice ringing loudly across the bridge.

My instincts were right; I should have scanned for danger. This is what happens whenever I let my guard down. It makes me wish I knew how to sense SOULs without purposely searching with my magic. Instead of reaching out like a radar, it keeps quiet and close to me, only active when I call upon it. Which I guess that’s arguably safer. However, at times like this, I definitely regret not working on enhancing my magic skills.

It’s not that I think Sans will intentionally hurt me, but he definitely _unnerves_ me. If I need a reason to fear him, all I have to remember is that Gaster’s gone because of him. Sure he had a little help in leaving the lab, but when he saw his opportunity, he took it. That reminds me of when Gaster’s face was suddenly cracked those few days before we encountered Chara in her creature form. It could have only been Sans who caused the damage.

“Of course you didn’t, I could’ve walked right past ya and you wouldn’t have noticed. Not very observant,” he says bluntly, switching back to English.

I hold back a sigh of frustration and take the insult. “So what do you need? Or are you just out for a midnight stroll?” I try to say casually.

“I’ll keep you on track before you try to change the subject, _human_ ,” he suddenly snaps. “Now, what do you know?”

“About what?” I ask, faking an innocence I don’t possess.

“Do you want to play a game? Cus’ I’ll play _that_ game all night if you want, but sooner or later you’re gonna come clean.”

A silence settles between us as he stares at me, so still a stranger would think he’s one of those fake plastic skeletons I’ve seen in movie science classes.

“I’m not sure how much I should tell you,” I finally whisper. There’s no way around it, he’s put enough pieces together to know that my real story is far from what I’ve told them. I should’ve kept my mouth shut that first day.

“I’ll make it easy for you: _everything_.”

His condescending tone makes something in me snap, “About what? You? Your brother? Where you came from? The monster that created you two? What makes you think I know every detail about the life you forgot? Do you not think that maybe there’s a reason why you forgot it? You can recognize that it was horrible, right? So maybe you should just be glad that it’s not haunting you every waking and sleeping second for the rest of your life!”

My face heats up and I cross my arms, looking away from him. The second I finish saying it is the second I regret it. I shouldn’t yell at him, he’s just curious. I would want to know about my past if I found someone who knew it, even if they didn’t have all the details.

“See that’s the problem, it _is_ haunting me every waking and sleeping second,” he says, his voice suddenly somber. I look back at him, and his eyes are finally their normal amount of white. “I have flashes of memories that I can’t place. They’re all in pieces, but I know they’re of a particular _someone_ that I should remember. I see shapes and colors. I hear voices and screams. I feel anger and… pain. I know I never saw this place,” he gestures to New Home City, “in that life. Nothing is even remotely familiar except… there’s something about the Judgement Hall that feels… right. It’s like I know I’m meant to be there, someday.” He sighs in frustration, “And that’s my overall problem, I feel this tug between what I think is my past and what seems like my future. And if you could just, _enlighten_ me on what is certainly my past, then maybe it’ll be easier to sleep at night.”

The analytical part of me wants to know how he can see fragments of the future. Is it a factor of his magic that’s unique to him? But now isn’t the time for a question like that. Instead, I ask, “If you’ve been wanting to know so badly, then why have you been treating me like I’m a criminal you’re suspicious of?”

“Because I don’t trust you. Anyone who keeps as many secrets as you clearly do shouldn’t be welcomed with open arms,” he hisses.

“Wow,” I say unenthusiastically, feeling his words hit me in the face like a cold slap.

“However, I am willing to give you a chance to earn my trust if you can truthfully offer me some explanations.”

“What a bargain,” I scoff, glancing at the buildings to my right, noticing that all their windows are dark now.

“If you don’t want to say anything then I’m fine with that, but don’t expect me to treat you any different,” he snaps.

“You know, you remind me of him so much,” I say, my words biting with more venom than I expect.

He squints at me, a hint of anger simmering in his eyes. “And just who exactly is **_him_ **?”

“Well, who else would it be other than dear old Dad? You know, Papyrus looks a lot like him, but you take the cake on the personality. It’s practically spot-on aside from the informal tone.”

The whites of his eyes completely black-out, **“I assume he’s the cause of my brother’s and my suffering?”**

His bone-chilling tone doesn’t deter me, as my frustration and anger from the past few months, from the past few _years_ , boil to the surface. “How right you are, Comic Sans. And you know what else? _He’s_ the reason your brother will forever have that scar on the back of his neck. _He’s_ the reason you have those plates bolted into your hands. Do you know what _WDG_ stands for? _Wingdings Gaster_ , the name he tried so desperately to keep from us. And do you want to know what happened to the oh-so-genius scientist? You killed him! So don’t worry about it! Everything that happened doesn’t matter anyway! Because Asgore sure as hell doesn’t remember him and neither does the rest of the world! So it’s best that we forget too, or else we’ll drive ourselves crazy overthinking every little detail and question as to why we’re the only ones cursed to remember it!”

I don’t even realize how many tears have fallen until I stop talking, noticing that I might as well be yelling at the dark city for all I can see. I turn away from Sans and furiously wipe the tears from my eyes, unsure of what came over me. I’d say I’ve always been a fairly calm person, but maybe that’s exactly the reason why I had an outburst, you can only bury everything for so long.

“He hurt you too, then?”

I scoff at his understatement, the simple generalization an insult on its own. “You know, with how ‘observant’ _you_ are, I would’ve thought you’d have recognized that weeks ago.”

“I certainly noticed it when you shied away from the Barrier.”

So he’s going to stab that sore subject? I’m not surprised, but it hurts all the same.

“I have my reasons for that,” I snap, glancing at him over my shoulder with a quick glare. But then I realize that maybe I should thank him for not taking advantage of the opportunity to humiliate me. I sigh, “And I guess you think I should explain them considering you didn’t call me out.”

“I’d say that would pay back the favor,” he says, his tone softer.

I turn back to him, but I don’t look at his face. Instead, I fixate my gaze on a spot on the bridge and cross my arms, as if it’s the only armor to protect my fragile heart.

“Fine. It was a couple months ago, the end of April, actually.” My heart rate begins to pick up and my cheeks warm in embarrassment. I might as well be telling him about any number of nights I experienced on the Surface. They all display the same theme of my constant weakness; a child incapable of standing up for herself. “And he took me to the Barrier room to see how I would react to it.”

I bite my lip, hesitant to continue, and Sans says, “Humans can be affected by the Barrier in different ways but monsters aren’t.”

“Correct,” I say, slightly inclining my head towards him in gratitude for not being too pushy. “So, I did not react to it in a positive manner. In fact, it was practically torture, to put it bluntly.”

I wince when I think about the feeling, the sharp, digging sensation of countless needles, all searching for ways to cut into my flesh and ultimately impale my SOUL.

“How long did it last?” he asks, his tone quiet but stern.

“It felt like eternity, but I bet it was ten minutes. Not to mention the fact that he threw me closer to the Barrier, which intensified the pain, before he walked away and said I could die for all he cared. So it shaped up to be as fun of a field trip as I would’ve expected with him.”

I finally look up at Sans, expecting him to smirk at hearing my pathetic tale, yet he just stares at me with an unreadable expression. I honestly can’t tell if he’s holding back laughter or if he wants to punch me in the face just because he can.

“So why didn’t you tell them I was at the entrance? That was another perfect opportunity for you to humiliate me,” I say matter-of-factly.

He smirks at that, “When did I humiliate you before that?”

“You know when it was.”

“Heh, tripping is a force of nature; I didn’t have any influence over that.” I narrow my eyes at him and his smirk widens, “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re so outrageously self-conscious that when you’re around other people you end up embarrassing yourself in the process.”

“I’m _outrageously_ self-conscious?” I ask, my annoyance beginning to transition into anger.

Somehow, someway, he makes his expression even more smug, and I realize he’s enjoying this, picking at my insecurities like a dry scab.

I sigh and look away from him, knowing he’s won, despite the fact that I didn’t get as angry as he had probably hoped.

“Can you just answer my first question? Why didn’t you grab my wrist and drag me into the Barrier room to watch the _hilarious_ show of a human screaming in pain?”

“Well,” he sighs, his voice devoid of the humor it had just possessed, “because I saw the terror in your expression, and I know what that terror feels like.”

I look back at him, his expression so stern I almost can’t believe I’m talking to the same skeleton as the one from just a minute ago.

“You’re actually admitting there’s a similarity between us?” I ask sardonically.

“I’m fine with admitting that; I’ve learned that even those we hate the most will share some similarities with us, as much as we despise the fact.”

“I’m glad to know that you hate me,” I mutter, surprising myself when my voice sounds like I accept the fact.   

Sans sighs, “I honestly don’t _hate_ you, Krista, but I don’t entirely trust you either. Would you feel better to know that I trust you a little bit more now than I did before this conversation began?”

“I’m honored,” I snap, feeling like he measures “trust” in terms of how easy it is for him to insult someone.

I hear him scoff softly before saying, “Y’know I’d think you’d understand, considering how standoffish you are with Asgore. As much as you’d like to _think_ that I’m not noticing the hesitation in your words or the fear in your eyes, I am.”

“Why do you even care to watch?” I mumble, beginning to plan an escape route back to my room. It seems that when I don’t want to be alone, everyone leaves me, but when I _do_ want to be alone, there’s always someone creeping around to play the old game of Insult Krista.

“Because I’m trying to figure you out. And as much as I’d love to ignore you and convince my brother to do the same, I know he’d never allow that to happen. So if I can’t get rid of you, I might as well understand you.”

He winks at me, the smugness in his expression fading into curiosity.

I look away from him, beginning to feel exhaustion press behind my eyes. He can wonder about me all he wants; I’m done playing games.

I step to the left and walk past him, my arms still tightly crossed. I hear him laugh a bit behind me, “So that’s it?”

I stop and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Fine, if it’s what’ll get him to shut up, then I’ll tell him. “I only saw you three times before the day we left the lab. In all the time we were simultaneously down there, we didn’t interact long enough to figure out what the other was experiencing. I have absolutely no idea what kind of torture he put the two of you through.” I turn back to him, staring into his eye sockets with an intensity only a person telling the truth can possess. “What I can tell you is this: the second time I saw you, only your left eye could glow, unlike the first time when they both did. I don’t know the significance of it, but I’m betting it wasn’t your decision to suddenly ‘turn it off.’” The whites of his eyes black out again, but they don’t seem as intimidating as they were before. “I know anything I have to say beyond giving details about your past mean nothing, but I’m sorry that your whole life has been nothing but fear and torture. Neither of you deserved that, and if I could take it all away, I would.” He narrows his eyes, and I understand why my words are difficult for him to believe. “So if it makes you feel better, then hate me all you want. But I honestly don’t know anything beyond what I’ve told you and the fact that his ultimate goal was for the two of you to be powerful enough to destroy the Barrier alongside me.”

I turn to walk back to the house when he says, “Alongside you?”

It’s my turn to laugh a little, “You don’t believe my story about entering the Underground through the Barrier, so there’s only one other way I could have.”

“The Ruins,” he says, displaying the knowledge he quickly learned about the Underground within a matter of hours after learning English.

“I didn’t even have a chance to wake up before he found me and took me to the lab. I bet he was disappointed that I wasn’t a Determination. So unfortunately for him, he had to go with the more complicated plan of creating monsters that he _inferred_ would be strong enough to take on a centuries-old Barrier with the assistance of a damaged little Perseverant.”

“So I owe you my existence?” Sans says, disgust in his voice.

“Not at all, I think he would’ve still created you two, once he got desperate enough. He had some other human SOULs locked up that he could’ve used. However, it was obvious they wouldn’t have been as useful as a live one, since a human SOUL loses its power the longer the actual host has died, especially when a scientist has been tampering with it. I guess I’m ‘lucky’ that he’d had enough fun killing kids and decided that maybe one would be more useful alive. Of course, that didn’t stop him from finding ways to torment me.”

“So, like with Papyrus… did he-” Sans cuts himself off, but I know what he’s referring to.

“No, that’s why I said I was already damaged when he found me. I’ve realized that the Surface has become sort of a fantasy dream for monsters, the idea of sunshine and natural weather. But it can feel as dark as the Underground when you’re surrounded by the wrong people.” I scoff and shake my head, trying to swallow the memories that gleefully resurface whenever I think about my father. “Well in my case it was just a single person.”

A silence begins to stretch between us, and I can practically hear all the questions that are probably rising in his mind. But I’ve explained all I can about what concerns _him_.

“So have a good night Comic Sans, I hope this conversation will help you sleep better.”

I walk the rest of the length of the bridge, never turning to look back at him. From what I hear, he doesn’t follow.

When I reach my room, I kick off my shoes and take a quick shower, keeping the water ice-cold as a punishment. I honestly don’t think I told him too much, but explaining those details out loud, only to have him insult me and dig for more, just infuriates me with myself even further. I think he might hate and distrust me more now than he did before confronting me.

The fact that the information I know is practically useless to him means that was probably the first and last time he’ll ever care to try to talk to me.

Why did I even try to explain? He obviously doesn’t care about what _I’ve_ been through, and yes, I’m not angry with him for that, but why did he ask in the first place?

It reminds me of those couple months after my mom died. The few people we knew asked how we were doing like they expected us to say, “I’m a little sad, but everything will be great soon!” When I was beginning to cope with the fact that Mom was gone _forever_ , I would ask them how life would change instead of answering their questions. It took them aback so much that they didn’t respond and eventually ceased contact. Of course, my father made no attempt to keep in touch anyway, but I can’t help but feel like they didn’t want to try either. I guess I can understand how they felt. What do you say to a seven-year-old who just lost her mother? And just like with Sans, I don’t have much to say to him in light of what he’s been through. Sure I was in a _similar_ situation, but I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to have metal drilled into your bones. And that is where I feel this sudden anger towards myself. I can’t help him; I can’t help either of them. Maybe I just made things worse for Sans, since he’ll take what I said and try to force those flashes of memories to sharpen.

_Why can’t you keep your damn mouth shut, Krista!?_

Despite the freezing chill, the water does nothing to cool the heat beginning to boil in my blood. I dress and brush my teeth in a matter of two minutes, feeling a scream rise in the back of my throat. The hallway is dim and empty when I open the door, practically sprinting to my room in the silence. I lock my door and don’t bother to turn on the lamp, throwing my “dirty” clothes from the day on top of my duffel bag. I jump on the bed and shove a pillow against my face, creating a small shield around me for extra protection. And then I scream with all the strength my voice can conjure.

My dead father might as well be screaming at me too for all the self-degrading thoughts shrieking in my head.

 _You deserved his insults. You didn’t help him; you’ve just hurt him even more, all because he was a little mean to you earlier today. How pathetic, Krista. You’re such a child. Those boys didn’t deserve what they went through, but you did. You can’t protect anyone. This is just like Mable, you “try” to help, but all you do is hurt others even more. That’s why you don’t deserve Asgore’s kindness, especially after what a bitch you’ve been to him. You can’t do_ **_anything_ ** _to help this world. At least if you were still locked up in a lab, you could’ve eventually helped set the monsters free. Sure it would’ve killed you, but that would’ve been the one useful thing you did in this life. What a pity it didn’t work out, maybe if you’re lucky, Asgore will change his mind and throw you into the Core._

My scream eventually dies, leaving me to cry instead with the occasional whimper. Pathetic, indeed. The worst part is that my own thoughts are more hurtful than those whispers at the end of my second memory test. Nothing can truly crush me like my own lowly self-esteem.

I don’t even know how long I sob until I finally drop my shield, confident enough that my sniffles won’t be heard. The purple glow wasn’t bright enough for the boys to see under their door, I hope. The anger, self-hatred, crying, and magic use are all enough to exhaust me, my body cooling down to the point that I crawl under the covers. I lay on my left side so it’s more difficult to see the hallway’s dim light from under the door. I _should_ be staring into the darkness; it forces me to remember that it’s where I belong. Unloved. Punished. Forgotten. It’s enough to make me embrace it.

***

_The face is watching me again, but this time it’s curious rather than angry. Its head is turned to the side, as if it wants to ask me a question, but we both know it won’t speak. I turn away from it, anger simmering within me about something I can’t place._

_A white door faces me when I turn, the only light in this world of darkness. I turn the knob and step into my house, into my room. My sister sits on the bed, an open textbook in her lap. I walk over to her to see what she’s reading, only to see pictures of two monster skeletons on both pages. She points at Papyrus._

_“Can you help this one?” she asks._

_I shake my head, guilt clawing its way up my throat._

_“What about him?” she asks, pointing at Sans, accusation beginning to fill her eyes._

_I shake my head again, fearful of what she’ll ask next._

_She slams the book shut and throws it on the ground. “And me?” she says, pointing to herself._

_My throat begins to close, but I fight to speak, to offer her some sort of explanation. “I tried-”_

_“But you failed!” she screams, a bullet hole appearing in her forehead and a gun in my hand. “Look what you did to me! This is what happens when you try to help! If it weren’t for you this would have never happened to me, Krista! I could’ve grown up with a loving family if you had just called! But you didn’t, because you were too selfish. And it cost me everything.”_

_A hand lands on my shoulder before I can speak, sharp fingernails digging into my shoulders. My bleeding scars don’t matter, because Mable paid the ultimate price for my selfishness._

_“She’s right, sweetheart,” my father says in a raspy voice. “Shall we… attempt to make up for her wrongs, Mable dear?”_

_“Do whatever it takes to make her realize she’s worthless,” Mable snaps._

_My father doesn’t need to be told more as he takes out a pocket knife and slashes it against my right forearm, slicing away the skin and spraying us all with my blood._

_“That’s not enough,” she says._

_He digs the blade into my bones, ignoring my screams._

_“Not enough!” she shrieks._

_He tears it out and narrows his eyes on my throat._

_“Death isn’t enough, but unfortunately it’s the best we can do.”_

***

I feel someone shaking my shoulders and I bolt up, a shriek escaping me when I hear, “Shhh!”

I close my mouth, but I can’t stop shaking, the dream so painfully vivid in my mind I feel like I can still see it. The only thing that distracts me is the stinging on my forearm, and I touch it to feel the pink pajama sleeve soaked in blood.

The fingers on my left hand are sticky with layers of the red liquid drying at different intervals. My nails are nothing more than cracked stubs with clumps of blood caked as far underneath them as possible.

What the hell did I do to myself?

I move to turn on the lamp when a voice to my left stops me, “Clearly our conversation didn’t help _you_ sleep better.”

I jump, but my body protests to move much further than an inch. Based on how exhausted I still feel, it’s probably been only twenty minutes since I screamed into a pillow.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” I hiss, my brain trying to comprehend a piece of information that defies the fact that he’s in my room. It only takes me a few seconds to remember that I locked the door. “ _How_ did you get in here?”

He sighs, “Look, some of us are trying to sleep, and it’s pretty difficult when your SOUL is practically screaming for help.”

Despite his condescending words, there’s a hint of worry underneath his tone.

“Can’t you control your magic and ignore the aura’s of other SOULs?” I try to snap, but my voice is so hoarse it comes out miserably weak.

“Yes, but not when-” he cuts himself off, a frustrated sigh taking the place of his words.

“Are the other two standing out there?” I ask, nervous of how I can gently explain this to Papyrus.

“No, I just meant myself when I said, ‘Some of us.’ I haven’t slept yet.”

I peer at him, trying to find the faint lights in his eyes, but there’s nothing. “Well, I’m up now. Sorry that I’m so annoying.”

I move to get out of bed when he grabs my wrist, his grip almost painfully tight.

“Is this what you do to yourself every night?” he asks, the usual casualness in his tone replaced with deadly solemness.

“What makes you think it’s every night?” I snap, trying to wrench my injured arm out of his grip, but he doesn’t budge.

“You don’t think I notice your pain? Krista, I can tell you have nightmares _every single night_ . Every other time, it seemed like you could shake it off with no problem. And to be honest, I didn’t want to care either. But this time... it was different. Rather than just notice that you were scared, it was like you were... _begging_ for someone to help you, like you knew it’d set you down a path that would forever damage you. My brother has nightmares too, but I try to act like he’s invincible to the pain, and it helps him. But I can tell you’d never believe that.”

“Don’t act like I need _your_ help, and let go of me,” I hiss, tears burning in my eyes. Because he shouldn’t want to help me. This is a battle I will forever fight alone. My subconscious should know better; I learned a long time ago that help will never come if I ask for it. No one has ever cared about the pathetic little girl named Krista, and nobody ever will. The thoughts make me shake even worse.

“I can heal your arm,” he says, refusing to let go of my wrist, as if it’s an offer I can’t refuse. It just infuriates me even more.

“Well maybe I don’t want it healed. Maybe I like the pain,” I say, the lie so obvious to me, I know he can see it too.

“You think you deserve it,” he states, as if he’s been in a similar situation.

“What I think of myself is none of your b-”

My shoulders drop without warning, and I catch myself by smacking my bloody hand on the white sheets. My head feels like it’s being stuffed with cotton balls, muffled and too heavy to lift. I see green light surrounding my arm out of the corner of my eye, and I squint in disgust as the soothing comfort of his magic heals the bleeding wound and calms my trembling from the dream.

Unlike Papyrus’ slow progress when he healed my burn, it feels like Sans hit everything at once, my body begging to accept the help and rest.

He finally lets go of my wrist, and I drop like a ton of bricks, hating myself for not fighting harder. So I fight to stay conscious, wanting to tell him that helping me is a waste of his time. “Why can’t you just hate me and forget I exist?” I whisper, my eyes closing without my permission.

“At first, I really wanted to, but after taking the time to actually listen to you, I know you don’t deserve to have another person treat you like the insignificant creature you’re not. Maybe I really am a lot like him. That’s why _I’m sorry_ , that it’s taken me this long to see what the others have seen since day one.”

I have nothing to say in response, because he was right to trust his instincts.

Of course, his unnecessary guilt is my fault. Why does my suffering have to be so _noticeable_?

A silence begins to build, almost long enough that I think he’s magically disappeared. And I’m just on the verge of letting go of my last thread of awareness when I feel bony fingers stroke my head, my body too heavy to jump from the sensation.

“Heh, maybe trusting you will be easier than I thought,” he says humorlessly, but seemingly genuine. Then he lifts his hand and walks away.

I don’t hear the door open, but it doesn’t distress me enough to keep the exhaustion from dragging me under.


	8. Optimism Is Always An Option

For some reason, I expect to wake up with a headache, but all I feel is a jolt of energy when my eyes snap open. The hallway light is still dim, but I doubt the time is far from the Underground’s unofficial “sunrise.” I flip on the lamp and jump out of bed, only to remember what happened last night when I see my right sleeve stained with dried blood.

I push the sleeve back to reveal perfectly healed skin, tinged a light pink that’ll fade within a day. I glance back at the sheets to see a few tiny specks of red-brown where I placed my hand last night. Great, how can I create an excuse for this? Maybe I can destroy the clothes and flip the sheets to the other end of the bed to hide the evidence. No one saw these pajamas anyway. I’m almost certain Asgore forgot they existed. I bet Chara never even wore them, considering how much effort she took to bury them.

I throw the pajamas off and quickly change into jeans and a turquoise and lavender striped sweater. I bury the hated pink outfit back where I found it for the time being, making sure the stained sleeve is hidden. Until I can figure out a way to get rid of it without anyone knowing, that’s the best I can do. 

I turn my attention to the bed and flip the sheets around, concealing them on the opposite end underneath the comforter and blue blanket. I hope Asgore doesn’t have people who housekeep for him. I’m sure working for the king you’d have a trained eye for even a speck of imperfection. If I ever see someone who seems to have that profession, I’ll just argue that I want to do the laundry myself. I’ll have to decide whether I want to call it an independence obligation or just OCD. 

It takes fluffing the pillow I had smashed against my face to finally notice the blood still caked under my fingernails. The slight throb of pain makes me wince, and I finally leave my room to thoroughly scrub it away. 

The hallway is still dim five minutes later when I finally give up trying to get the last bit out from under my thumb. Feeling slightly haunted by last night’s dream, I avoid my room and head to the table instead. Sitting in my usual seat that faces the hallway, I try to ignore the pain under my nail. At least it’s something that won’t stay for long like a chipped piece of nail polish would. I whined more about that when I was five than I did about my wounds when I was eleven. Oh, how this little girl has matured.

Although it hasn’t been by much. It seems whenever I think I’ve finally put an issue to rest, it resurfaces with more force than when it first manifested. Last night was definitely the most damage I’ve ever done to myself over my guilt of how useless I am. As much as I want to rub my forearm at the thought, I fluff my hair instead, shaking out the last bits of dampness from the shower. I don’t want to start damaging my arm to the point of needing healing a  _ third _ time.

I take a deep breath a twirl a few strands between my fingers, knowing I need to go through a round of analyzing and questioning to feel better. 

My guilt about the boys has intensified the guilt I already carry about Mable. It’s no wonder my subconscious decided to be straightforward with me and deliver a message so brutally crushing that I damaged myself both emotionally and physically. To me, it was a worthy punishment. I  _ need _ to recognize that I’m a failure, especially when it comes to helping others. So why did Sans say my SOUL was screaming- no,  _ begging _ \- for help? If I can’t help someone else, then I don’t deserve their help. He shouldn’t have healed my arm. I should be feeling that pain now, rather than a little bit of dried blood pressing underneath my thumbnail. 

Why did he do it? Did our conversation  _ really _ change his mind about being cold to me? I feel like we were taking turns insulting each other rather than working towards a middle ground of tolerance. How did he come to the conclusion that I’m more trustworthy than he originally thought? Because he realized how easy it is to overpower me? That’s probably it. He healed me out of pity because he realized that no matter who I interact with, they will always have the upper hand. What he’s wrong about is his assumption that having the upper hand makes me easier to control. I refuse to allow a third person get away with controlling me. Although I’m beginning to see a trend in what happens to those who do. Of course, I had no influence over what happened to Gaster, but I think I might have killed him in the Core if Sans hadn’t.

Jeez, am I already assuming that Sans has the same intentions that his “father” had? Maybe I’m just looking for every possible shred of what’s bad in him, like I do with everyone nowadays. I should just talk to him today, simply ask what his reasons were. Why would he lie about them? Unless… he knows more than he’s been leading on. Maybe last night was a test and he-

No. I should stop wondering before I reach the deep-end of overthinking and most likely another anxiety attack. 

I glance at the bookshelf on the far left wall to distract myself. It makes me wonder if there are any good books Asgore has that I would recognize. Or maybe there are some really creative stories written by monsters that would be worthy of blockbuster movies on the Surface.

I walk over and gaze at the titles on the middle shelf, a little disappointed that many of them seem like nonfiction books about either gardening or on making tea. Besides that, there are a couple about snails, for some reason and a few worn cookbooks on the bottom shelf. I have to stand on the tips of my toes to see the books on the top shelf, much wider than the rest, almost like binders. Some of them have titles on their spines that simply say, “ _ Photo Album _ ,” while the rest don’t. However, they all display different shades of muted colors to tell them apart. On the far right of the shelf, there’s a single one tilted on its side while all the others stand up straight. It’s as if Asgore preferred to take up as much room as possible with a single one rather than leave an empty space worthy of two more books.

I grab the book on its side and pull it off the shelf, unprepared for how heavy it is. I drop to the floor and lean against the bottom shelf, placing the book in my lap. When I crack it open to the first laminated page, I finally realize what it is: a scrapbook. The first page contains what appears to be a worn, yellowed photograph, but on closer inspection, I realize it’s actually a drawing, so perfectly detailed it might as well be a real photo. Could there be some sort of magic that makes it look so real? It’s not a crazy possibility.

In the photoesque drawing, there are two children holding flowers with who I assume are Toriel and Asgore standing behind them. I can’t see their faces, but based on the broad shoulders and the insignia of the “Angel” on the monster on the right, I can only assume it’s Asgore in his usual formal outfit. The monster on the left appears to wear a dress with the entire Delta Rune symbol on it. Wouldn’t that be a fitting outfit for the queen to wear in a formal picture? Only, the children don’t seem to be in very formal poses. The child on the left is a smiling goat monster with floppy ears and a tuft of hair sticking up on his head. He hugs the flowers against his chest, as if there’s nothing in the world that makes him happier. The child on the right wears a striped shirt and appears to be a human, only she’s covering her face with the flowers she holds. A little camera-shy Chara?

Underneath the picture is a slip of paper with the caption, “ _ The children’s first magic image together!” _ I guess that’s one way to call a magically constructed photograph. The rest of the scrapbook is a mixture of birthday cards, “magic images,” and stickers from different areas of the Underground. The trend that I quickly notice is that all of the images mostly contain who I can certainly say is Asriel. Each one is paired with a caption explaining what he’s smiling about in each picture. From what I can gather, he was the type who was easily fascinated by the world, so willing to discover what his little kingdom had in store for him. In a couple pictures, I see Chara on the side or in the background, but her face is always obscured. It seems like she was trying to hide rather than the “photographer” intentionally excluding her.

I’m less than halfway through the book when I reach empty pages. I glance through the rest, but there’s nothing but the blank spaces ready to be filled with more memories. I guess that’s why this book was the one turned on its side, because it’s the last reminder of his family that will always be left unfinished. I reach the last page, just to make sure, and I’m greeted with an image startlingly different from the others. While they had all been yellowed by age, it seems this one has been preserved to keep its original sharp colors, or maybe Asgore had some way of updating it. 

My throat tightens at the sight of her face, her wide eyes a dark blood-red. But her expression is unlike the smug, know-it-all I saw when I met her. Instead, Chara’s smile is light, the faintest tilt at the corner of her mouth. A few strands of hair shade her face, as if it’s her last defense at hiding from the camera. A single golden flower is tucked behind her right ear, and the ivy of the Throne Room coats the wall behind her. It seems like she wants to shrink away, almost as if she’s afraid her thoughts are written plainly on her face. The caption reads, “ _ Her last picture, before everything ended.” _  I wonder if Asgore buried this picture in the back because it was the closest one taken to that time, or maybe it’s the only one where Chara reveals her whole face. From how it seems, I’m guessing the afterlife changed her into something very different from who she was alive. 

How did she die again? Wait, it was buttercups, but why would she eat them? She knew that they were poisonous, especially after the mistake with Asgore. Does it take less than that? I’ve never heard of someone dying from smelling buttercups. Could it have really been a mistake? Did Chara…  _ want _ to die? I mean, why did she end up in the Underground in the first place? I don’t think a child’s innocent curiosity is strong enough to motivate a kid to risk what is obvious to even their young mind, almost certain death. She couldn’t have accidentally  _ tripped _ and fallen. That opening was not Alice’s little rabbit hole to Wonderland, it’s more like Ebott’s unwelcoming entrance to an eternal prison.

But if Chara wanted to die enough to attempt suicide at what I assume to be five or six, based on how she appears to be eleven or twelve in the picture and when I’ve seen her, why would she wait  _ six years _ to try again? And why would she still want to die when she had found such a loving family who accepted her for who she was?

I don’t understand her.  _ I _ have less to live for, and I’m still going. Maybe I’m being too judgemental, or maybe I’m assuming too much. Maybe she never felt like she was truly a part of their family, and when she found her first way out, she took it. How unfortunate that it apparently got her stuck in some kind of limbo/purgatory, whatever she implied it was.

The dim lights finally brighten to their daytime settings, and I jump up to place the scrapbook back where I found it. I don’t want to be caught snooping again, even though it’s as tempting as placing a cupcake in front of a kid and walking away. My curiosity is aching just as much as my sweet tooth at this point. At least I can satiate the former with books and guilt-ridden conversations. 

I walk back to the table and return to my seat, my fingers toying with my locket in anticipation. I’ve never been up this early to know who wakes up first. I assume it’s Asgore since he always makes breakfast. Should I do something to help out? I glance at the kitchen, wondering what I could even do to help considering I don’t have fire magic, and anything simple would take all of a minute to prepare.

So I sit tight, my fingers creating a rhythm as they mindlessly pass the locket back and forth on its chain. I smirk a little when I realize I wasn’t kidding when I compared my curiosity to my sweet tooth. At home, food in and of itself was difficult to come by, so sweets were permanent members on the don’t-waste-your-money-on-this list. I always tried to make birthdays an exception, especially because Mable deserved something to brighten the day. The only good thing she could expect otherwise was that Father would ignore us. I sigh and try to forget about the different delicacies that were on the restaurant's menu. Thankfully, few people ever ordered dessert anyway, but my mouth would always water at the scent of chocolate cake or cinnamon rolls.

I flip the locket to face me and snap it open, revealing the picture I tried so hard to not look at when I was in the lab. The sight of their faces always hurts, the knife twisting its way around my heart like the familiar strain of my scars. Sweets, comfort, happiness, love, they’re all foreign to me now. I suddenly realize how…  _ empty _ I feel, drained of the joys that made life normal when I was little. 

_ You never know what you have until it’s gone. _ That is the most honest statement I have ever heard.

I snap the locket shut and drop it so it thumps against my chest like a single, second heartbeat. 

Is this the life I deserve? The life I was meant to have? Was that happy little girl destined to have her mother ripped away from her? Only to lose her father and sister a few short years later? Mom loved to say that everything happens for a reason, that even though we can’t see the outcome now, both the good and bad that we experience will create a better world. What good has come out of what  _ I’ve _ done? Sure, I probably kept Mable a little safer than she would’ve been alone, but she still died anyway. I have nothing to offer the boys that would help them overcome their confusion about their pasts. I don’t even have money to pay Asgore back for all he’s done in the past few weeks.

I lean my forehead against my hand, staring at a spot on the table. What good am I as a living being, if I have nothing to offer anyone in the world? I guess I don’t owe the world anything, from a selfish perspective. What little I’ve had has all been taken, why should I feel obligated to help? And yet I do, because no one deserves to experience what I have. And maybe I can’t prevent what’s already happened to the boys, but maybe I can prevent any other horrible experience from ever happening to them again.

I hear a door open down the hallway and my head snaps up to see Papyrus. He seems…  _ cautious _ , and I instantly fear that he knows about last night. At the sight of my open door, he turns in my direction, his face brightening with a light smile.

“You’re up early,” he says, approaching the table.

“Yeah, I didn’t stay up too late, for once,” I say, as if I simply had a healthy eight hours, and I’m ready to conquer the world. 

He sits next to me, his fingers beginning to fidget with his yellow bandana. “But that wasn’t the reason, was it?”

He doesn’t ask the question in the manner of an accusation, like I know Sans would; instead, it’s like he’s offering a door open for me, a welcoming gesture that I can take or ignore.

“So you heard? Or he told you?”

“I heard a little, but Sans thought it’d be best if it was just him rather than the both of us. He didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Yeah, and he also wanted to say a few words and nonverbally insult me. But I’m glad Papyrus didn’t see me like that, even though I’m sure he felt a bit of it.

“No matter what it was, we just want you to feel better. You’ve helped us a lot with learning how to communicate with Asgore and even just being patient with our questions. I hope that we can be good enough to help you with the problems you’ve had to carry alone.”

“Thanks. I’m sure with someone as cool as you around, it’ll be much easier,” I say lightly nudging his arm.

He smiles at the compliment, something I know he never had growing up. I’m trying to slip them into conversations as much as possible, not only because they make him happy, but because he genuinely deserves them.

A door opens at the end of the hallway, and Asgore steps out in an orange button-down shirt and green pants. At the sight of us he says, “Oh! You two are up already. Did you really get enough sleep?” We nod and he heads into the kitchen, “Well then, I better start working on breakfast.”

“I should wake up Sans, wouldn’t want his breakfast to get cold!” Papyrus says, bolting up and racing to their room. I wonder if his true reason is because he doesn’t want to exclude his brother. I bet they’ve never eaten a meal without the other.

I wander into the kitchen and see Asgore searching through the fridge.

“What do you think? Eggs or toast?” he asks, probably assuming I’m Papyrus at the sound of my light footsteps.

“You guys had toast yesterday, so I’d say eggs,” I reply, and his posture stiffens a little. I’m not sure if I simply surprised him or if my voice reminded him of last night’s conversation.

“Alright then,” he says with forced positivity as he pulls a blue carton out of the fridge. The size of the carton makes my eyes widen, as it appears to hold eggs around the size of an eagle’s.   

Asgore notices my stare and smiles a bit. “You know how humans share some similarities to animals on the Surface?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, those same animals also share similarities with monsters; they’re kind of like the medians between monsters and humans. Which means they are possible candidates of being ‘magic containers.’ They can’t wield magic like the rest of us, but they can possess it. Unfortunately for them, magic can change them against their wills. A certain little creature named the platypus was a victim of that. But anyway, these eggs were the results of chickens being influenced by magic. Most roam free around the Underground and aren’t seen as an important food source. But every now and then we have to cut down on the population. Some are even kept as pets, which is how their eggs have become a part of our everyday cooking.”

I love how much effort he put into explaining it, as if I would think it’s weird to eat eggs for breakfast. Although, when he opens the carton, not only are the eggs bigger than a normal chicken’s, they’re also bright orange with faint white spots. Yeah, that’s the only thing that I find weird. What the hell kind of creatures have Underground chickens turned into? Apparently they’re still friendly enough to be pets.

When he cracks an egg open on a small skillet, a dark blue yolk appears and I raise an eyebrow. At least magic still does kind of an opposites thing with the colors. Can the egg shells also be a different color? Like how they’re brown and white with normal chickens? I think just  _ how _ they were influenced by magic seems like a more important question.

“What kind of magic made them change?” I ask.

“Interestingly enough, I don’t remember. Although I’d say they ran into a darker area of the Underground where the magic is more unpredictable. There’s magic all around us, mainly due to the Barrier since it blocks us from escaping through the ceiling. But at the same time, there’s a kind of… aura that surrounds the Underground that is neither human nor monster. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it feels like there’s almost an entirely different entity that has an influence on this place. No one has ever directly interacted with it, but we can all feel its presence every now and then.”

“Is it something we should fear?” I ask, not sure if I can stomach the idea of another being constantly watching me.

“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t worry too much, dear. I’ve lived here for a little over a thousand years, and nothing has happened relating to that entity. I just wouldn’t go snooping in places that seem suspicious.” 

That seems reasonable enough, although I’ve recently had a bad track record for snooping.

The boys appear in the kitchen just as Asgore creates a small fireball above his hand to ignite the stove.

“Oh! I’ve been meaning to ask you how you can do that,” Papyrus says excitedly as they walk to the other side of the stove to stand at Asgore’s right.

I back away a few steps, still close enough to be considered part of the conversation, but far enough to still be ignored. I see Sans glance at me in the corner of my eye, but I refuse to look at him, feeling a burst of anger. I bet he’s wearing one of his smug expressions again.

“Well, it’s part of the magic that is unique to me,” Asgore says to Papyrus.

“Aren’t we all made of magic?” Sans asks before glancing at me again. ”Well, monsters, that is.”

“Yes, it comes from our SOULs,” Asgore replies.

“Does it reflect the self like a mirror?” Papyrus asks in perhaps the most detached voice I’ve ever heard from him.

“Where’d you hear that, bro?” Sans asks, clearly startled by Papyrus’ change in tone too. 

“Uh, I don’t know,” Papyrus says, and I catch Asgore’s confused expression.

“Well… anyway, monsters can use magic in all sort of ways, from doing tasks around the house, to expressing how we feel and even self-defense.”

“Self-defense?” Papyrus asks, slightly alarmed.

“Yes, but that’s a rare case that I’m sure you won’t ever encounter,” Asgore says reassuringly, but I can tell he doesn’t wholeheartedly believe his own statement. “And with magic, we can create patterns of bullets,” he says as he creates a ring of fireballs above his head.

“Wowie!” Papyrus says, his excitement warming me more than the fire. “So can I make little fires too?”

“Oh no, every monster has a style of bullet that is unique to them. I’m sure skeletons like you would create bones.”

“Huh, that sounds kinda cool, doesn’t it?” Sans asks his brother.

“Yeah! I want to create cool bullet patterns of bones!” Papyrus says.

“You know, monsters can also use magic to spar with each other for practice or for fun,” Asgore says.

“What’s that?” Papyrus asks.

“Sparring is a play-fight between friends where no one gets hurt and you get to show off the skills you’ve been working on. It also teaches you more about each other in terms of what you have improved and can improve upon.”

“You get to show off how cool you are? I want to spar! I want to learn how to do it!” 

“I’d be happy to teach you, Papyrus. Erm, but I’m not sure if it’s safe for you, Sans. I am very careful, but with your…”

“My condition, I know,” Sans says, seeming disheartened.

Condition? What “condition!?” He seems perfectly fine! Have I missed something? I mean, I know he’s much shorter than his brother, but height shouldn’t be  _ that _ great of a hindrance. He does seem to lack energy, but I’ve always felt it only seems that way because Papyrus is so enthusiastic about even the simplest of things. Maybe it’s something that only monsters can sense about each other. I can sort of pick up on their strengths depending on their SOULs’ auras, but Sans and Papyrus seem to be equal on that level.

“Oh, don’t worry brother! Asgore will teach me, and then I’ll teach you, and we’ll all become great and cool at it! And I’ll be super-duper careful so you won’t have to worry at all,” Papyrus says, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“Well, it still seems dangerous…” Asgore trails off.

“Nah, I know he won’t hurt me. I trust you, bro,” Sans says with a warm smile that seems reserved for only his brother.

“I trust you too!”

“Well then, we can start later today,” Asgore says hesitantly.

It’s only then that we all remember the egg on the skillet when the scent of something burning fills the room.

“Oh dear!” Asgore says, lifting up the pan to scrape the burnt thing into the sink with a rubber spatula. “Why don’t you little ones wait at the table, and I’ll bring them to you?”

I back away a few steps until I’m next to the fridge. Papyrus gives me a smile as the boys pass to leave the kitchen, his excitement to spar still sparkling in his eyes. Sans raises an eye socket at me, and I snap my head away, refusing to look at him. I bet he’s happy that I know the others consider him to be “fragile.” It says all the more how weak the  _ human _ is. It’s more humiliating than if he had dragged me into the Barrier room.  

I turn around and open the fridge when he seems to be slowing his pace, as if he wants to talk to me. He can say whatever he wants later, but I  _ refuse _ to allow him to tell the others about what happened last night.

He seems to catch the hint and he walks away. It’s only then that I realize I need to find something as an excuse for opening the fridge. I spot a carton of orange juice and grab it, a little thrill of excitement running through me.

I grab a glass from one of the cabinets under the counter and see the faintest grin on Asgore’s face.

“What?” I ask, feeling a little defensive.

“It’s a start, at least,” he simply says before turning back to the skillet.

I look at the carton and realize his implication. It may not be food, but it’s some form of extra nutrition. It’s definitely a source of Vitamin D that the sun used to give me.

I head to the table, a little wary since the boys know about last night. At least Asgore will never know, but he’d be the least of my problems even if he did. I really don’t like the idea of the boys thinking that I’m someone they should be concerned about. Sans is clearly dealing with enough, and Papyrus shouldn’t be bothered with problems that are mine and mine alone.

I sit in my usual spot and pour half a glass of the bright orange liquid, realizing the color has never seemed more beautiful to me. All this gray and white is really making me desperate for bursts of vibrancy. How can Asgore stand to live here?

“What’s that?” Papyrus asks, still cheerful.

“Orange juice,” I simply reply, turning the carton towards him.

“Is it any good?”

I can’t help but smile as I take a sip from the glass, memories of so many Saturday mornings drifting back. “It’s delicious. Do you want me to get you a glass?”

“Sure!” he says eager as always to try something new.

I’m about halfway to the kitchen when Sans says, “Make that two, thanks.”

I flinch, but I acquiesce and grab two, not even glancing at Asgore before heading back to the table.

“Alright,” I say, placing the glasses in front of each of them, making sure to not look at Sans.

Papyrus copies my method of pouring half a glass before tasting the orange juice. "Wowie! It really is good! I feel like I’ve been missing something my whole life.”

He has no idea. But I smile instead and say, “You never know what you’ll discover unless you try something new, and with your glass-half-full mentality, you’ll always be adding to a long list of things you never thought you were missing.”

“Glass-half-full, eh?” Sans says.

“Yep. It’s an expression that means you’re always looking at the optimistic side of situations,” I say, keeping my eyes on Papyrus.

“Well, what if I think it’s actually half empty?” Sans says, lifting his glass.

I finally fix my gaze on him, but I hold back the bitterness I want to convey in my voice, “Then that means you’re always focused on a pessimistic outlook, and to be honest, it makes life much more difficult to live if you only think about the negatives.”

“But wouldn’t the glass  _ technically _ be half empty if we didn’t have any more orange juice to fill it with?” Sans asks, raising an eye socket as if he’s asked a question no one can refute.

“But we also have water from the sink, and even if we didn’t have that, we could put a rock or something in the glass to make the juice rise,” Papyrus says.

I can’t hold back my smile as Sans’ eye sockets widen at his brother. “Exactly,” I say, holding out a hand towards Papyrus as if he’s the honored guest at an awards show. “There’s always something that will make the glass full.”

Sans squints at us, a smile spreading on his face at our explanation, even though we both know his question refers to a situation that has no positive outlook. I can name several situations that I’d say have nothing positive about them. And yet I’m sure if I explained them to Papyrus, he’d still find something good in them.

Asgore finally appears with four plates balanced between his arms, a fork precariously positioned on them in what I assume were the best spots to keep them from falling. He places each plate on a placemat with such grace it puts my waitressing skills to shame.

“Uh, why?” I ask when he places the last one in front of me, a blue yolk smiling up with salt and pepper scattered on it like glitter.

“Well, if you’re going to spar today you need to have more nutrients than a little bit of orange juice,” he replies, sitting across from me.

“You want me to spar with you?”

When had he decided  _ that _ ? I practically wasn’t even in the room when they discussed it. It almost seemed like a conversation only meant for them,  _ monsters _ . Beings with magic very different from my own. I’m sure I could create “bullet patterns,” but they wouldn’t be made out of fire or bones. It would just be the same purple glow I have for everything else. I’m sure I could still have similar results in terms of what damage I could do, but thinking of using my magic around them, for them to realize that I’m not nearly as powerful as a human  _ should _ be, the idea makes me want to hide for the rest of the day.

“Of course, I’m sure you sparred when you were on the Surface right? Considering you know how to form your magic into weapons,” Asgore says, perhaps a bit too cheerful. We both know he’s assuming a lot, and he wants me to answer his unasked questions.

“Well, I learned a bit for self-defense, but I never did any actual  _ sparring _ ,” I say, poking at the egg yolk with my fork, uneasiness making my stomach twist.

“Oh, well that’s fine. It just means we’ll all start with the basics,” he replies, and I catch the curiosity in his eyes.

Of course, why would an abusive father teach his daughter self-defense? It’s a question that can only be answered with a lie. I just have to make sure I’m never in a position where Asgore may want to ask it.

Papyrus then asks how monsters can even summon their bullets of magic, giving me an opportunity to back out of the conversation.

I finally slice open the yolk, causing the blue liquid to seep across the egg white and pool onto the plate like blood. I cautiously cut a small piece off, unsure of what I’m about to eat. I once remember a customer who ranted to her friend for a good half hour about how blue is the most unnatural color for food. She said that was why she refused to eat anything that had even slight traces of the color, including cake icing which is obviously harmless and will taste the same no matter what color. I bet her head would explode if she knew this is what normal chicken eggs can look like.

I glance around the table to notice that the rest of their plates are empty, leaving me to feel like the isolated human who’s the only one uncomfortable with what is considered normal to the rest of them. Of course, the boys are accepting it simply because they don’t know any different, but I still feel excluded.

I decide to suck it up and try the egg; I can’t feel better if I can’t attempt to accept their world.

Despite the color, the egg tastes exactly like one would from a normal chicken. What did I expect? A blueberry flavor? 

It’s been a couple years since I last had eggs, and it causes the taste to be so shocking, my mouth hurts from the surprise of returning flavors.

Even though I feel the tug of old instincts telling me I shouldn’t eat, they don’t seem as strong anymore, and I finish the rest of it in a few bites. Of course, I eat slowly, afraid that my body will want to reject the nourishment, but nothing happens. Am I… getting better?

I glance up, my eyes betraying me when they land on Sans. He gives me a quick wink with a slight smirk before looking away as if he never noticed me.

I’m beginning to think he fixed more than just my arm. 

_ But why did you do it, Sans!?  _

“Alright, I have a little bit of work to get done first, and then we’ll spar this afternoon. Does that sound good?” Asgore asks.

“Yep!” Papyrus says, jumping up. “I have a puzzle to finish in the meantime.” He glances at his brother, “Sans?”

“Sure bro, I’ll be there in a minute,” Sans replies before gathering up the plates. “You can start on that work; I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Oh, thank you,” Asgore says before heading to his room.

I realize what Sans wants when he grabs every plate but mine.

I make sure Papyrus and Asgore have their doors shut before I enter the kitchen, prepared to confront the “fragile” skeleton.

“Y’know, a simple ‘thank you’ would suffice,” he says before I can say a single word, his back turned to me.

“I didn’t realize I should be grateful to receive what is the magical equivalent of drugging someone,” I snap.

“Do you have a headache?” he asks, a tone overtaking his voice that is as serious as Papyrus’ was detached.

“No,” I say, slightly surprised that he would know the effects of a drug. But then again, I really shouldn’t be surprised. “What did you do?” I ask after a minute of nothing but the sink’s water filling the silence.

“I healed your arm,” he says.

“It was more than that.”

He sighs and places the plates upside down on the counter to dry. Even though he could take the extra time to dry them off with the nearby dish towel, it’s clear his offer was designed so he could speak with me alone. I appreciate the action, there’s no way I could wait until tonight.

“You have carried so much alone that it has affected you physically. It’s been subtle, with your body’s denial of food and the fact that you need more sleep than the rest of us. So I sort of…  _ reset _ that subconscious mentality.”

“How is that even possible?”

“It wasn’t hard. It was basically like healing your arm. But instead of the creation of tissue, it was rather like smoothing down a jagged surface, resulting in a system that will function the way it’s meant to work. Even though the original damage may still be visible, your body will fix itself on its own. It seems that it already has.”

He smiles a bit and I understand why I don’t feel as sick as I used to whenever I smelled food in the morning. He was able to unravel whatever deranged part of my brain that believed it was doing what was best for me. Part of that was because I’ve felt I deserved it, and the rest has been brought on by years of abuse and an insistence that I need to save whatever food I find for someone else. How is it even possible that it felt  _ right _ to live that way? 

I glance down at my arm and push my right sleeve back, revealing that the pink skin has faded back into my natural pale shade.

“I know what you’re thinkin’, but yes, my ‘condition’ is real. In terms of healing, I think I’m pretty good at it; I think it had to do with all the practice I had growing up.”

He says it casually, but I hear the hatred simmering underneath his tone.

There’s only one person he could’ve practiced those skills with. I wonder if Papyrus’ scar is a reminder of a failure to heal him. Did it happen when they were younger? When Sans was just beginning to learn his magic?

“So this ‘condition’ is centered on your fighting capabilities?” I ask.

“Pretty much, but I’m sure I can improve to the point that I can go against you,” he winks.

I raise an eyebrow, “You don’t think you’re better than me already?”

“Nah, I’m guessing you don’t see it, but you’ve got a lot of strength. Don’t let last night bother you too much; I was honestly just trying to help. I had a hard time believing that he had you locked up too. So I thought up this grand scheme that we lost our memories because of you and that you were working for someone more powerful. But at the Barrier, when I saw how scared you were, and then after we talked… I couldn’t leave you to suffer alone. I honestly don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have my brother nearby when the nightmares… well, you know.”

“You really didn’t have to, but thanks,” I say.

“I know, and if you don’t want to think of it as something I did to help, then consider it the best way of paying you back after weeks of ignoring you.”

“Heh, it sounds better that you did it out of the goodness of your personality, it almost makes you as likable as Papyrus.”

His smile spreads at my weak joke, and I hold out my hand. He raises an eye socket, and I pretend to sigh in annoyance that he doesn’t understand.

“People shake hands for a lot of reasons, and one is that they agree to be honest with one another. Now that it feels like we’re on the same level of understanding, it feels right to me.”

He squints at my right hand and holds out his left.

“I know it technically doesn’t work, but it seems better to use my left,” he says, seeming a little embarrassed. I can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t want to use his hand with the plate or if it’s simply because he’s a lefty. I’m not going to tell him that it’s pretty much always done with the right hand. I doubt he’ll be meeting a businessperson who would care about that kind of etiquette anytime soon.

I switch to my left and give his hand a firm shake, realizing I’m giving him the wrong impression of how many girls shake hands. Oh well, it’s better for someone to know the tough before the fragile.

“What are other reasons for shaking hands?” he asks after we let go and head towards the hallway.

“When people meet for the first time or simply as a way of greeting each other, when they come to an agreement, or as a way of congratulating someone. There used to be a reason for why it originated in ancient times, but I forget what that was. Overall, it’s meant to be friendly and above all, honest.”

“I hope this means there will be no lies between us then?” he asks, the last hints of his suspicion towards me fading away.

“Never,” I say, and I mean it with all my heart.


	9. There's Always More To Learn

Ten minutes into their sparring session, Asgore finally realizes what I picked up on within two: Papyrus has some pretty advanced patterns with his bone bullets. 

I lean against the dark brick of the house, not too far from where Sans sits, his bright yellow and blue striped shirt like a beacon of light against the gray.

The courtyard leading to the house is the largest area for sparring, and it’s an ideal location considering how secluded it is. However, it almost makes me feel like being locked in a room again, with nothing but gray walls on all sides. At least it’s more spacious.

“Are you sure you’ve never used magic before? Your patterns are very advanced and… familiar,” Asgore says.

I glance up at the ceiling and take a deep breath, the only sign of my frustration that he can’t put the pieces together. I see Sans look at me and he nods slightly, understanding. 

“Really? I’m doing a good job?” Papyrus asks.

“Yes, but I don’t understand…”

“I’m not hitting you though, how am I doing good if you keep moving out of the way?”

“Oh, well that’s just-”

“Dodge,” Sans says, his voice distant, “he’s dodging.”

“Yes, that’s right Sans. How did you know?” Asgore asks.

“Uh, I read it in a book. Y’know, that one about different tactics monsters use in combat?” he replies, almost nervous. I can bet how he  _ actually _ learned what the tactic is. If Asgore can recognize that Sans has some sort of “condition,” then I’m certain Gaster knew about it. And if he taught the boys magic, then he had to have taught Sans dodging. If his attack magic is sub-par at best, then what other defense can he have? I only wonder why he specifically taught them magic used for combat. Maybe it was similar to what he allowed me to learn about my own magic. With more knowledge comes more power.

“Do you think you can teach my brother how to do that?” Papyrus asks.

“Well, I can teach him the theory of it, but he would have to practice with you in order to understand how to actually do it. Does that sound good, Sans?”

“Sure thing,” he says, still seeming distracted by a different train of thought. I wonder if it’s a memory fighting to resurface.

“Okay then, Krista, would you like to try?” Asgore asks.

My stomach twists like I’m next in line for a terrifying roller coaster, but I nod and walk out into the courtyard, braiding my hair back as I travel.

“Sorry, I should get you your own brush and some hair ties, especially if we’re going to spar. You know you can ask me for things like that, right? It’s no trouble,” Asgore says, his tone reflecting the concern he had last night.

“I know, I honestly didn’t think about it until now,” I say truthfully. Despite what many people may think about long hair, it doesn’t get tangled too badly if you wash it on a regular basis. And I haven’t had any use for hair ties since January, so the items never made it onto my empty list of requests for Asgore. However, I know it also has to do with the idea that I feel it’s selfish to ask for things that seem so frivolous. I have more than enough to cover my basic needs; it seems like asking for more is overstepping a boundary.

“Well, I’ll make sure to get them before next time,” he says, probably realizing I’m not going to ask. “Now, what have you learned about your magic, just in general?”

“Uh, I know I can pretty much make any weapon I can imagine, and I can move objects if I have a good focus on them. I can also make shields, or rather just walls of defense to block away anything around me.” 

His brows furrow and I get the feeling he’s comparing my description to the human magic he saw during the War. “That’s a start, but to be honest Krista, you can do much more than that. The only limits are your imagination and how far you’re willing to go to defend yourself.”

I don’t like the sound of that last part. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Well, in terms of fighting a nearly unstoppable foe, how much of your power would you want to discover? Would you push past your limits to win? Do you have a personal moral on how far you’ll go until you stop fighting? And I’m not asking this to scare you, I’m simply saying it so you’re aware that your magic is a representation of who you are. If you limit yourself, you’ll never improve, and that’s a major problem if you encounter someone who refuses to remain stagnant. But if you become too focused on how much farther you can go, that will dangerously distance you from others. And the last thing you want is to be trapped inside your own head with nothing but thoughts of gaining more power. So don’t be afraid of what you can do, but also be very aware of your control.”

I feel like this applies to real life much more than sparring, but I understand his point. He’s saying this so I remain focused; I wonder if he saw some people become so lost in the idea of their own power that they forgot who they were. While magic and its being can become one in the same, one can also gain more control than the other. The recent history of humans shows what happens when we gain more control over our magic, we forget it. And like with the Underground chickens, magic took control and changed them. I think they seemingly remained the same in terms of personality simply because they don’t know what they can gain with magic.   

“So I know you can create swords, would you say that’s the easiest form you can make in terms of offense?” Asgore asks.

“I guess so; I’ve just sort of become the most comfortable with it.”

“That’s fine in terms of close combat, but try to expand your offenses. For instance, as we can create bullet patterns, you can reach out your choice of attack as far as you want. I learned that many humans became comfortable with attack patterns that they found the most frightening or damaging to their opponents. Now I’m not recommending you use that when sparring, but it’s just a suggestion for future reference. For today, just keep that option to a minimum.”

He says it all in the friendly voice of an encouraging instructor, but I can see the shadows in his eyes that suggest he isn’t entirely relaxed when discussing how a human should fight. I’m technically the  _ enemy _ after all.

“Okay,” I say, glad for once, that he can hear my nervous tone. I don’t want to hurt him, especially since I have an audience. But what is something I find damaging that can easily harm others?

The list grows as I think over every source of pain I hate, the methods becoming more elaborate the longer I wonder. Until, the simplest source circles back to me, and it suddenly seems to be the most effective in my mind. The razor sharp, flesh-slicing, suffocating pain of needles, millions of them gathered together to create shards that can appear wherever I wish. With so many gathered together, no one will ever know what specific kind of pain they’ll discover. The sharp sting that strains and aches for hours? The frozen, numbing bite that creates unbearable shivers? The scalding burn that forces you to sit there, helpless, with no way to heal the wound that forces you to stare at your bones?

I almost shiver at the thought of the possibilities that I could inflict upon someone if I wanted to. But I feel they’re best saved for when I have a real opponent, someone I hope I’ll never meet.  

With Asgore, I’ll create the shards, but I refuse for him to feel any pain from them. That’s a good minimum, right?

“Okay, I think I got it,” I say, slightly unsure.

“Let’s see the pattern then.”

I lift a hand, feeling the stir of magic in my SOUL, probably surprised by my sudden call for such an immense request. But the purple shards appear, one by one, rising up out of the ground. They begin as the size of paring knives, but then grow to my height, each spike begging to be assigned any number of punishments I can imagine inflicting. But instead, I imagine them to feel as soft as kitten’s fur, despite their menacing appearances. Eventually, so many materialize that Asgore begins to dodge.

“Nice job. Now, do you think you can keep them up if I attack some with fire bullets?”

“I’ll try,” I say, unsure if I’m ready.

He sends out a handful of fireballs towards three of my spikes. I try to hold my ground, but when they hit, it feels like he might as well have hit me in the chest as a sudden stab of heat knocks the wind out of me. I gasp and stumble back, my magic retreating back to me. 

Asgore jumps in surprise and diminishes the rest of the fire, “Oh goodness, are you alright?”

He walks towards me but I hold out a hand, massaging just above my heart. “Yep,” I wince, “sorry, I wasn’t prepared.”

“Well, you seemed prepared,” he says. “Did you design them for defense or offense? Because they should have held either way.”

“Uh, well I didn’t want to hurt you, so I designed them to only  _ look _ intimidating, but they would actually feel really soft.”

Asgore chuckles lightly, “Dear, don’t worry about hurting me, just focus on improving your magic. How about we work on defense first? Would that be easier?”

I nod, finally straightening as the last bit of heat diminishes. The effects of his fire don’t seem to last long, but it’s very effective when it initially hits.

“Alright, create a shield or however you picture your defenses, and I’ll send a fireball towards you, alright? Ready?”

“Ready,” I say, quickly constructing a shield that’s a darker shade of purple than usual as I infuse more power into it. I’m not getting a fireball to the heart again.

He tosses it towards me, and I grit my teeth when I feel the heat as it approaches. I shouldn’t be able to feel it, should I?

The fire hits my shield, and I feel the pain of the heat once again, only this time, I simply wince. That’s better, right?

“You reacted to it again,” he says, placing a hand under his chin as if to think through the problem. “Hmm, I think I know what the cause is.”

“What?” I ask, feeling defensive. Haven’t I gotten better at magic skills? Or am I really as pitiful as I think I am? Well, as pitiful as I think I am when I go through a tantrum of self-hatred, that is.

“You definitely have the strength to withstand attacks. Only, you’re taking the full impacts of them. Can you feel the pain in your SOUL?” I nod. “Mm-hmm, that usually occurs when a human is relying more on physical strength rather than their magic. So even though you have a magic shield, the attacks are practically passing through it to hit you.”

“But I’ve pushed back things with my shield before,” I say, remembering the creature. However, when she fought back, it was like all her attacks were going straight to my SOUL rather than reflecting back on her.

“You can interact with other things with your magic, but when it’s bound so tightly to your SOUL, you’re going to feel everything it interacts with.”

“So how do I change that?”

“You need to see it as a tool rather than as a part of yourself. I know it sounds confusing, but every being that has used magic has learned this. You can recognize that it is a part of you, but at the same time you must view it as something separate. A power you can control, a strength you can wield but also a force that is meant to protect and fight for you without having a physical connection to your SOUL. I’ve learned that it’s more difficult for humans to do this because of how much stronger their physical bodies are. As monsters, being almost entirely made of magic makes it easier to compartmentalize what we use for defense and what composes our bodies.”

I guess that contributes to what the book said about humans preferring to use real weapons rather than magic. It’s a challenge in and of itself just to figure out how to use it without killing yourself. I most certainly would have died from the Barrier with my magic being so closely tied to my SOUL. Gaster would have known that, didn’t he? The thought feels like a fireball to the heart in and of itself. 

I always had a feeling that I was going to die in attempting to destroy the Barrier, but I didn’t consider that the reason could have been from something that seems so avoidable.

_ It was always his intention for you to die. You knew that. _

So why does the realization scare me so much? It’s as if now that I know the truth, I’ll be forced to complete the task before I can disconnect from my magic.

“So how do I do it?” I ask.

“With hours of practice, I say start with simple tactics for the next few days. When you think you’re ready to spar, then we’ll do it. How does that sound?”

“Alright,” I agree, feeling a new sense of purpose. It feels good to have something to focus on that I’m not being forced into. I want to learn my magic, and I want to use it effectively. Sure I’ll probably have next to no real use for it, but it will give me a sense of security I’ve been lacking my whole life.


	10. Improvements

The next two weeks pass faster than I realize; it seems that having a purpose, a reason to get up in morning, makes the day end before I even feel it’s begun. The fact that the boys are spending more time out of the house gives me many chances to test my magic without worrying about their watchful eyes. I know they wouldn’t judge me, but it feels better to practice alone, free to try anything I want.

I start simple, forming a shield against my blanket and focusing on removing the direct connection with my magic. After hours of only slight progress, I finally become numb to the sensation, realizing that I can’t feel it anymore. I press my small shield against the blanket, but there’s nothing. Does that mean I’ve improved? But when I try it against the floor, I can slightly feel the cold surface. It’s a start, but not a significant one.

It takes a whole week to realize the trick, or at least, the trick that works for me. I’ve been so caught up over the awe that I can actually use magic, that I haven’t been able to see it as something normal, like an everyday tool. My shield is like a steel door, impenetrable against anything that wishes to reach me. The weapons that I create are like the words I can use to hurt others just as effectively. With that idea, I begin to master the needles and spikes, realizing my emotions about each form of pain can be tied to them, therefore causing the magic to emit that pain. Of course, I don’t want to solely think about using my magic to hurt others, but it seems that remembering the negative reasons to use it help me focus, control it better. The magic is a part of me; its strength exists because of what I’ve experienced. However, it is still ultimately like something as common as a door or a knife. The only difference is that it shapes into what I want, more like a partner who listens to my every wish.

With that in mind, it becomes easier to disconnect, until I can’t feel anything by the end of the second week. Not my blanket, not the floor, not water. I even risk holding a small shard near the stove’s flames, but I don’t feel them, and the flames simply move as if I were holding a knife over them. I’m finally able to do it, after all these months. Too bad I had to be zapped by the lasers in my cell doors so many times to get to this point.

It’s not that I can’t feel the magic itself anymore, I just can’t feel what it interacts with, and while that may seem like I would feel more distant to it, I actually feel like the connection is stronger than it’s ever been. The only difference is that we’re the same source with two different sets of feelings. The magic can’t feel pain, but I can infuse it with what I wish to give to others.

Asgore was surprised when I asked if he’d be okay with sparring again; I feel like he became so focused on helping Papyrus that he forgot I was working towards a goal too. But when he could feel the different temperatures I created within a group of soft spikes, he was impressed.

Along with working on my magic, I make sure to also build up my body’s stamina in terms of exercise. If I’m going to be able to spar, then I need to be able to move fast for a long period of time. And with the state my body’s been in for the past few months, I know I’ll need to take a break within five minutes if I don’t do anything about it.

I started slow the day after my failed spar attempt and took a half-walk/half-jog from the house to the Throne Room and back. It was definitely an immense shock to my body, to force it to move so much after months of inactivity, but I persevered. Stretching beforehand helped, something I almost forgot that one’s supposed to do before (and after) running.

I had forgotten what it felt like to feel sweat slide down my face, and I switched back to wearing my T-shirts for runs. After digging around in my wardrobe for a bit, I was able to find a few pairs of cotton pants to wear that cut off just below my knees. Even though I’m accustomed to them, jeans are certainly not ideal to wear when running, and while I’ve heard cotton isn’t really the best material either, at least it’s lighter.

By the end of the first week, I could slowly jog the entire trip. By the end of the second week, I can now mostly full-out run the entire path. Granted, it’s still a lot of effort, and my back certainly screams in protest every time, but I focus on the benefits. All the running has certainly activated my appetite, I can now eat two full meals a day plus a small snack. It’s allowed me to finally gain some weight, making my eyes appear less sunken and the faintest bit of cushioning on my ribs. Unfortunately, I can still count them all, but it’s more difficult to see them as clearly as before.              

While I’ve been focusing on my magic and exercise, Asgore has taken the boys to meet other monsters. Even though he asked if I wanted to come with them, I could tell he was hesitant. I told them it was fine, the boys needed a chance to interact with more of their own kind without me there to cause any problems. Since I’m sure any monster that sees me will either want to kill me or question what I am.

Apparently, Sans is pretty good at social interaction, but Papyrus is… struggling, to put it nicely. When Asgore explained to them how they can make friends, Papyrus was so enthusiastic he pretty much chased away anyone who was willing to talk to him.

I’m not sure how to help, considering I’ve made a grand total of one friend in my entire life who I’m sure has forgotten me by now. I think it’s something that just has to come naturally; you can’t force friendship as much as you want it to happen. Papyrus is a lot to handle when he’s excited, and that’s intimidating to many people. I hope he’ll find someone who is as enthusiastic as he is or at least someone who can be so unbearably passionate about a topic they have to yell to get their points across, that might work.

In light of their discussion about friends, Papyrus asked when Asgore’s friends would be back when he pointed out the items they left behind. I feel like it was going to be discussed eventually; I had certainly questioned it at first. The childrens’ toys in the boys’ room, the clothes, the number of chairs at the table. What was once the spots designated for Toriel, Asriel, and Chara, are now Sans, Papyrus, and Krista. Asgore said it right when he wrote that our presences create the false illusion that the irreplaceable can somehow be replaced. It hurt to hear him struggle to explain to them that it was his family who used to live here, a bond stronger than friendship. It ultimately brought up Papyrus’ question if he had parents who abandoned him and his brother.

Sans glanced at me when Papyrus said that, and I could see the pain in his eyes at knowing the truth when his brother didn’t. Asgore reassured them that they had parents who were looking for them and that they loved them very much. It made me sick to hear the lie, even though Asgore didn’t know he was telling one.

***

Today’s sparring is going to be interesting, both for Papyrus and me. When Asgore asked if the boys knew blue magic, they immediately rejected his suggestion that they tried to use it. Apparently it’s a common ability for skeletons, but the boys reacted to the thought of it like Asgore had asked them to touch an open flame.

It reminds me of when Papyrus tried to save Gaster from falling. His hand had glowed blue for the briefest moment before he nearly had a panic attack. Clearly Gaster had taught him how to use it, but why would he then turn around and convince Papyrus that it was wrong? Maybe he suspected that his subject would use it against him, but what did he do that damaged Papyrus so deeply that the thought of using the magic terrified him?

So today he was going to try using blue magic on Asgore for the first time. Last week, he was able to create a few bones that would only harm Asgore if he moved. Papyrus nearly freaked out when Asgore reacted, but he reassured him that it was good. It showed Papyrus’ strength, and it demonstrated how blue attacks worked. I told him that the ability made it a special attack, something the rest of us couldn’t do, at least that made him smile at the idea of using blue magic.

“Alright, are you ready to try Papyrus?” Asgore asks.

“Uh, sure,” the skeleton responds, clearly nervous.

“You’ve got it,” I say quietly, not wanting to distract him, but to give him the encouragement he needs.

He gives me a slight nod before turning back to the king, his hand beginning to glow blue. Asgore’s SOUL appears and the color outlines the white upside-down heart.

“Good, now lift me up,” Asgore instructs.

Papyrus’ body slightly shakes, but he does as he’s told, carefully lifting him up so he floats a foot above the ground.

“See? You can do it,” Asgore says.

Papyrus releases a shaky breath and places the king back down. “So, that was good?”

“Definitely, and there are other techniques you can use that relate to that skill. Let’s practice them.”

They transition between a variety of methods: taking hold of the opponent’s SOUL while creating bullets to dodge, sending blue bones that affect the SOUL rather than using the separate method, and switching between using the standard white bones and the blue ones. By the end of their sparring, I’d say Papyrus is much more comfortable using blue magic. I can still see his hesitation, but at least he’s not afraid.

Asgore raises a brow at me while Papyrus walks over to his brother.

“That was really cool bro,” Sans says when his brother sits next to him.

“Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Papyrus responds, some of his enthusiasm sounding slightly forced.

I stand up from where I had been sitting against the wall and tie my hair up into as high of a ponytail as I can manage. Asgore was finally able to buy a brush and ties for me just a couple days ago, although I wasn’t pressuring him in the first place. I don’t necessarily need my hair up, but it’s easier to pay attention when it’s out of the way. In the event of danger, I’m sure I’d be focused enough with it down, but for practice, it feels nice to have it back for once.

“Do you want to begin with defense?” Asgore asks.

I nod and form a wide shield as he creates six fireballs. I can see his hesitation along with the concern in his eyes, but I don’t allow any fears to hold me back. He throws a single one and the flames harmlessly melt into my shield. I smile at the surprise on his face.

“Nothing?” he asks. I nod and my smile widens, a rare shred of pride blooming in my heart.

“Can you throw multiple bullets at once?” I ask, the desire to test my limits causing my heart to speed up.

“If you think you can handle them,” he says cautiously.

“I can,” I reply, my fists clenching in anticipation.

He tosses two bullets and the same outcome occurs, a harmless attack. Asgore creates three more fireballs and throws them along with the original remaining three. The same results happen.

“Alright then, do you want to try a mix of dodging and creating shields?”

“Sure.” I definitely feel enough adrenaline building that dodging sounds like fun. “Don’t hold back, I want to see how long I can last.”

“You want me to use all my attack methods?” he asks, his wariness returning.

“You don’t have to use all of them, but a variety would be nice.”

He smiles a bit, “Okay, but you let me know when you need to stop alright?”

“Yes sir.”

Asgore creates a semicircle of tiny fireballs above his head and begins to toss them at me in a random pattern. I leap to my right to dodge the first one and then create a shield when the second one gets closer than I expect. I try to dodge the third, but it grazes my sleeve at the last second, thankfully only singeing the cotton and not reaching my shoulder. Good thing I wore one of my short-sleeve T-shirts rather than a sweater.

I don’t think he noticed my close-call as he continues to send the fireballs at me, not even needing to move his hands to conduct their paths of direction. I try to rely on dodging as much as possible, but my default method quickly becomes creating small shields. In many attempts, I dodge and create a shield at the same time; it’s the safest method after all.

The fireballs gradually become bigger, and he sends multiple ones at me at once. However, I begin to notice that there are distinct patterns to his attacks, patterns noticeable enough that it becomes easier to dodge. The first pattern I notice is a group of a few bullets drifting towards me in the center of his attacks while hundreds of them fly towards me from either his left or right. The only way I can tell which side they’ll come from is when he has to create the wall of fire before sending it towards me, granted I have very little time to dodge by the time I see them. Another pattern I notice is when he tries to switch up his methods by creating walls of bullets on either side of me before sending them my way. They move slowly enough that I have time to dodge but just barely. He even creates a wall of fire behind me, surprising enough that I resort to using my shield at the last second. The last pattern that I pick up on is when he encircles a large ring of fireballs around the courtyard and shrinks them towards me. My only chance at dodging is finding the small exit he leaves in the ring so I can escape. It takes me a few tries to dodge rather than use my shield, but I get it eventually. It’s even more alarming when he begins to spin the rings, forcing me to really test my skills and reach the exit before the fires engulf me.

Despite how exhausting it becomes, dodging is thrilling, so much so that I never even feel tempted to ask him to stop. But I can tell he’s getting tired, and he eventually decides to stop testing my defense abilities.

I’m not sure how much time has passed since we started, but I think I’ve gotten pretty good at dodging no matter how short or long the time was. What started as just jumping to the side becomes what feels like an intense dance routine. I know I’ve definitely re-learned how to somersault after a decade since last using the skill. The only unfortunate outcome is the pain in my back and how fast I’m breathing; I don’t think I’ve exercised that much since I was seven. It feels like I just ran my usual path six times over!

Sweat trickles down my temples and around the wounds on my back. I bite my lip a little when I feel it sting one of the lashes I’m sure I pulled open. Good thing my shirt is black so they can’t see any possible blood that I’m sure is beginning to bloom.

“Are you alright?” Asgore asks. “I’m sorry, I should’ve realized that was probably too much for a first try, but you seemed so confident, I figured you could handle it.”

“Nope, that was great!” I say through my gasps, giving him a thumbs-up. “I just haven’t done anything so active in a long time.”

“Do you want to try offense tomorrow?” he asks.

As tempting as it sounds to rest, I’m almost afraid I’ll hurt too much to be able to attempt it. “We can do it today; I’m just going to take a quick break first, that is, if you’re up for it?”

He seems surprised, but he agrees. “Alright then, ten minutes?”

“Sure thing.”

I head towards the house to get water, but not before catching the boys’ eyes. The utter awe they give me stops me in my tracks. “Uh, do you guys want anything?” I ask casually. Papyrus shakes his head, but a smile brightens his face. “What?”

“Do you think you could teach us how to dodge like that? That was really cool!”

“Uh- yeah sure, anytime. Although... I’m not exactly sure what I did,” I say, glancing back at the courtyard, wondering what they just witnessed. I just moved in whatever way seemed to get me far from the bullets as fast as possible, and when I didn’t think I had enough time, I made a shield. It was just a simple blend of magic defense and adrenaline.

“You must’ve used some sorts of techniques cus I don’t think I could move that fast if my life depended on it,” Sans says with a wink.

“I doubt that,” I say before walking into the house. I know he’s joking, but he’d be surprised at what people are capable of when their lives are in danger. Even if he doesn’t have a single shred of attack magic, I think he’d still find a way to survive if his life was at risk. Of course, that’s a situation I hope he will never find himself in, but then again it could be the one thing that gives him confidence in his abilities.

Ten minutes later, after taking small sips of water every few seconds, I place my empty glass in the kitchen sink and head back to the courtyard. The boys stand near the center with Asgore watching them curiously. When I get closer, I see what Asgore’s looking at and raise an eyebrow myself. In between Sans and Papyrus is a single, tall bone that Sans holds his hands near, as if he was the one who created it. But… isn’t that considered attack magic? I guess bullets can be considered for defense too, considering how Gaster used them to shield us from the creature. Still… this is the first time I’ve ever seen Sans create one; I guess I just assumed he couldn’t, considering how many chances he had to try and didn’t. These boys are sure full of surprises.

I stop beside them and squint at the bone; for some reason, it looks slightly translucent. As far as I can recall, all of Papyrus’ bones have appeared to be solid.

“Be careful, Papyrus,” Asgore warns when the taller skeleton reaches for the bone.

“Don’t worry, Sans has done this before, and we learned that he can’t do any damage,” Papyrus says.

“He can’t?” Asgore asks.

“Yeah, see?” Papyrus moves his hand back and forth and it passes harmlessly through the bone as if it was nothing more than a beam of light. “I have no idea why his attack can’t work!”

Huh, so it _is_ an attack bone. Only, the fact that it doesn’t do any harm still proves the fact that Sans can’t use attack magic.

“I didn’t know a monster’s attack could behave this way,” Asgore says, intently watching the bone as if it will eventually reveal its secrets.

“Eh, who knows? I guess we can chalk it up as another weird thing about either of us,” Sans says as if it doesn’t bother him, but I see the slight concern in his eyes. It’s also another piece of proof that they’re not exactly _natural_ beings. Forget the plates, just the fact that their magic can behave so strangely hints that they’ve been engineered.

“If I may…?” Asgore hesitantly asks.

“Oh sure, go ahead,” Sans says nonchalantly.

Asgore cautiously reaches out with a single finger rather than the unconcerned wave of a hand Papyrus had, and the bone becomes opaque when he touches it. Rather than harmlessly passing through, his finger lands on solid bone and a magenta-colored smoke begins to hiss from where they connect.

He leaps back with a yell and falls to the ground, holding his arm against his chest.

“Oh! Asgore are you okay?” Papyrus asks, rushing to the fallen king, but I can only stare at the bone that has once again become translucent. My eyes shift to Sans, but the panic on his face says he had no idea either.

“Sans, what did you do?” his brother asks, slightly panicked.

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything! Really, I didn’t… do anything,” Sans says, his voice hushing as he seems to realize the meaning of his inaction.

“I- I’m alright, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Asgore says standing up, his bangs shading his eyes. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to end our sparring for today.”

He keeps his back turned to us as he travels to the house, keeping his arm clutched to his chest the entire time. When he disappears around the corner to his room, I turn back to the bone. Maybe Sans has more strength than he thinks, but then again, why would it affect Asgore when he didn’t do anything? How can Papyrus wave his hand through the bone like it doesn’t even exist while it injured the king? Is it simply because he’s a skeleton, so he’s immune?

I notice the boys glance at me, and my throat tightens. _They want to know if it’ll affect me the same way_. To be honest, I’m curious too, but do I really want to risk getting hurt like that for no reason? And who knows? Maybe it’ll be even worse for me since I’m a human.

Still… would it boost Sans’ confidence in his magic? Would it motivate him to discover the strengths he seemingly wants to ignore? He’s difficult to read, but I just might order him to work on his magic if this turns out the way I expect it to.

“I can tell you’re both just as curious as I am, so let’s see,” I say, stepping closer to the bone.

“No! What if it hurts you too?” Papyrus asks.

“Well then maybe it’ll motivate your brother to investigate his mysterious powers,” I say, raising an eyebrow at Sans.

His smile raises just the slightest, but I can tell he’s worried. I’m sure he’s guilty enough about unintentionally hurting Asgore.

“Whatever happens, I’ll trust that you didn’t do it on purpose.” I give Sans a wink and reach for the bullet with a single finger. My throat tightens even more when I touch solid bone, and I wait for the pain to arrive. The tiniest wisp of magenta smoke emerges, so faint that I almost think my eyes are tricking me. But then I feel a slight pulse of warmth, and I’m afraid the real pain is about to begin. However, that’s all that happens, a faint wave of heat before the smoke disappears.

“Huh,” I lift my finger and take a step back. “I guess you really have some investigating to do. Three witnesses and three different outcomes? Do you want me to start seeking out volunteers?”

Sans squints at me, as if to say, _“Are you serious?”_ before asking, “Did it… hurt in any way?”

“No, it just warmed up a little when that smoke appeared. Any theories?”

He shakes his head and Papyrus waves his hand through the bone one more time, as if to truly convince himself that it can’t hurt him. Sans seems all too happy to make the bone disappear. “Well, whatever the reason is, at least we know you shouldn’t create your attacks near Asgore. It would’ve been worse if he was walking nearby those couple times we sparred and got hit by one.” Papyrus winces at the thought of it, and I wonder if he feels just as guilty as his brother, even though he has no reason to be.

“Yeah, we should probably take a break from sparring tomorrow, for his sake,” I say, realizing just how often Papyrus has been practicing with the king. “Maybe we could go to New Home City instead?” I didn’t realize how much I wanted to go until the question escapes me. I know I’ve experienced more freedom in the past month than I have in my entire life, but I’m beginning to feel the limitations of my surroundings close in like the walls of a cage. A taste of freedom is all I need to create a craving for more, and it doesn’t help that they’ve taken a few trips without me. I can understand the risks of showing my face in a city of monsters, but if I’m going to live in the Underground, they need to know about me eventually.

“That’d be cool! The farthest we’ve only been is near the entrance, but we never actually went into the city,” Papyrus says.

“Are you sure, Krista? Cus, as far as I know, it’s kinda the norm to either hate or fear humans,” Sans says.

I raise an eyebrow at him, “And which option do you believe in?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” he says, a grin spreading.

“Oh, you can’t be serious!” Papyrus exclaims. “I wouldn’t associate either of those words with you, Krista.”

“Thanks Papyrus, I’m glad that there’s one monster who doesn’t follow the norm; it makes you all the more cool,” I say nudging his shoulder.

“Now wait a minute, I just said that I hadn’t decided on an option, that doesn’t mean I intended to pick one,” Sans says, a hint of defensiveness under his casual tone.

“Ooo, great save. In that case, I hope you’ll tell me the word you decide on whenever it comes to you. Take as much time as you’d like.”

“You know it defies what we were taught, right?” he raises an eye socket, momentarily forgetting his brother’s presence.

“Huh? What do mean? Asgore didn’t teach us to hate or fear humans,” Papyrus says, a little fearful.

“Of course not,” I say, waving a hand as if Sans simply mispronounced a word. “He just means that monsterkind has pretty much been taught that because of what happened during the War all those years ago. Thankfully, that was generations ago and we can choose to be better.” I see Sans’ grateful smile out of the corner of my eye; however, I’m not letting him get away with that comment so easily. “Which reminds me, didn’t you say you created a new maze that outshines all the ones you’ve drawn so far?”

Papyrus’ eyes light up, “Yes! I didn’t get to show it to you did I?”

“Not yet, can you get it?”

“Sure!”

He takes off towards the house so fast I think he could outrun a cheetah.

“Alright, you’ve got a grand total of a minute to explain that little comment,” I say to Sans, finally facing his solemn expression.

“You make it so easy to slip up because it really is something I want to discuss,” he says.

“Then talk to me about it! I understand how it feels, to remember when no one else does. And I know the past couple weeks have been busy and we’ve been doing our own separate things, and maybe that’s my fault. But I had to get some sense of control on myself first with the magic and the running and finally establishing some sense of a meal pattern and you know what, now I’m the one wasting time. So just tell me what you meant.”

He smiles at my rambling before returning to his solemn expression, the one that tells me he’s remembering his old life. “Whenever he spoke about humans, it was in a negative light, so much so that he might as well have directly told us that all humans hated monsters. There was this constant reminder that because humans were stronger, they would take everything we had and leave us to turn into dust.”

“And that was a guy who had control over many humans over the years, and they couldn’t do anything to fight back,” I say bitterly but then consider how he could have felt so negatively about my kind. Maybe the humans he’d encountered in the War really were as horrible as people can be. I’ve certainly heard several horror stories about the atrocities people can commit even in “civilized societies.” And even if I hadn’t heard them, my personal experiences are reason enough to hate others. However, a few people shouldn’t be what you base your opinion on of an entire population. I hated _him_ , but I definitely don’t hate the boys or Asgore. Maybe it was just easier to remain bitter, to hide behind a mask of no emotion and focus only on those who mattered in his eyes. In his case, the entire monster population.

“You’d think he would’ve been less cruel to us, having experienced powerlessness when monsters were sealed Underground,” Sans says.

“Some people would rather inflict pain onto others that’s similar to what they’ve experienced rather than move on. Sure, I bet he had an endless list of reasons for why he thought what he was doing was right, but it didn’t change the fact that he ultimately caused more pain than anything else.”

I shake my head and hear Papyrus’ approaching steps.

“It’s a good start; I never thought just talking would actually help,” Sans says in a lowered voice, his usual grin returning.

“Yeah, neither did I,” I say, feeling a sense of optimism wrap its arms around me into a warm hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With how confusing and jumbled his memories of life in the lab are, Sans realized that talking about them might be a possible method to help with coping after his conversation with Krista on the bridge. This is something they'll eventually be comfortable with discussing more often, but it'll make conversations tricky for them when Papyrus is around... 
> 
> In other news, hello to you! It's been a while since I wrote some notes. Since I posted the last chapter, we got Deltarune! Its release really threw me for a loop, and I'll admit I sacrificed writing time to play it... twice. And then I couldn't help but write something relating to it because I couldn't get the story out of my head. The Perseverant is still my main project, but I might post a couple more short Deltarune stories (seriously, the game is plaguing my mind just as much as Undertale has, which is only a bad thing in the sense that it's taking my focus away from this story).


	11. The True Lab

We didn’t see Asgore until dinnertime when he finally emerged from his room, back to his usual positive attitude. Sans tried to apologize for what had happened, but the king waved it away and said he didn’t blame him. I interpreted that as an order to forget about the incident, and I think the boys did too when none of us mentioned how my reaction to the bone was far less painful.

Papyrus was the one to ask about New Home City, and Asgore hesitantly agreed to take the three of us the next day. I’m sure he’s nervous about how the other monsters will react to me, but they were bound to find out at some point. He made it clear that we would go in the afternoon when he told me we were finally going to meet with Dr. Alphys in the morning. I’m surprised he even remembered, and while I’ve lost all suspicion of her, I am curious to see if she has any memory of me.

“Are you ready, Krista?” Asgore asks outside my door.

“In a minute,” I respond as I clasp my necklace and begin to work on tying my shoes.

A little thrill of excitement rushes through me as I think of how much I’ll get to travel today. First to Alphys’ lab, which is apparently in Hotland, and then the city! It makes me hope that we’ll get to explore the rest of the Underground soon. At this point, it feels like I have tickets to fly anywhere in the world, and I’m just waiting for the plane to take off.

As I expected, my back hurts worse today than it has in years from all that dodging yesterday, but I still think the practice was worth it. At least my excitement is strong enough to dull the pain to a more bearable level.

I spring off the bed and shut off the lamp before opening the door. Apparently Alphys only has a small window to meet since she’s been busy with another project that she took up within a couple days of finishing her previous one. Asgore seems hesitant to give us any details about what it is, although her work doesn’t concern us anyway so I guess not knowing doesn’t matter. I just hope that it doesn’t involve human or monster experimentation.

We head down the hallway to the front door, passing the boys working on a puzzle near the staircase.

“We should be back in no more than an hour, alright?” Asgore says to the boys.

“Okay, and then we’ll go to the city right?” Papyrus asks excitedly.

“Yes, of course,” the king replies before leaving the house.

“Have fun,” Sans says to me with a wink.

“Oh definitely, I’ll make sure to grab a souvenir,” I say. His face scrunches in confusion. “I mean I’ll get a little memento or item to remember the trip.”

He squints at me before turning back to the puzzle. “You humans are weird.”

“And you monsters are fascinating,” I say turning and holding a thumbs-up towards them as I walk into the courtyard. Whether Sans sees it or not doesn’t matter, at least Papyrus knows that it has a positive meaning.

I catch up to Asgore and walk beside him, remembering that this path leads to the elevator we took to get here from the Core. Do one of its buttons lead to Hotland?

“The three of you seem to get along well,” he says, awkwardly breaking the calm silence.

“Yes, it’s nice to have companions after-” I cut myself off, realizing just how close I was to revealing everything.

“After what happened on the Surface?” he asks gently.

“Yeah. I consider myself an introvert, but loneliness can really start to eat at me when I don’t have anyone friendly to interact with. However, at the same time, I don’t think I’m good at making friends. If you threw me in a modern classroom, I’d probably hide behind a book.”

“You didn’t go to a normal school on the Surface?”

We finally reach the elevator and he presses the “down” arrow to open the doors.

“No, I was homeschooled my whole life.”

“You say that as if your educational journey is over,” he says as we enter the elevator.

“I can’t really learn what would be required on the Surface down here. Besides, I don’t think most of those topics would really apply to my life now,” I say as I intently watch him press the _R-60_ button. He notices my observation with a hint of a smile.

“If we had time, I would show you around the paths of the Core that lead to the new resort Alphys designed. However, since we don’t, this will take us to the shortest path that leads to her lab.”

“So how do the elevators work?”

He gives me a look that suggests my “educational journey” is still incomplete, and I slightly roll my eyes as the elevator descends. “I won’t deny that there are billions of things for me to learn, but all I meant is that it will never be the same standard lessons I’m used to.”

“I’m sure I could dig up some very bland texts in Alphys’ lab that would teach you all you need to know about basic educational skills, all the maths and every single grammar rule in the English language.”

“I think I’m fine with what I know in those categories, but what I don’t know is how these elevators work. Could you enlighten me?”

He smiles a bit, “Alright. I’m sure you can infer that they’re magical, but they have restrictions. The buttons limit their destinations, but multiple elevators can share the same places, if they’re highly traveled locations. Unfortunately, some areas are so traveled that too many elevators can go to them. While the situations are rare, sometimes they can get backed up when too many monsters are trying to get there at once. In other circumstances, newer elevators tend to break often since it’s difficult to design new paths and maneuver around old ones. I have a whole team of engineers whose sole purpose is to keep them in good working conditions.”

“Interesting. So why do you have to open the doors with either the ‘up’ or ‘down’ arrow?”

“It’s so the magic can have a general sense of where to prepare to go. It helps that Hotland is in a slightly lower area of the Underground than New Home.”

“So we’re going straight down to Hotland?”

“There is some slight maneuvering to the left, but overall, yes we’re going down. The elevators are designed to feel like you’re only moving up or down, but they can travel in any direction through certain walls we constructed to reach where they’re designed to travel to.”

“Huh, would you say such ingenuity is thanks to magic or technology?”

“It’s a mix of both, but I owe more thanks to the monsters who designed the system rather than the bits of magic they used to make it work.”

The elevator finally stops and the doors open to allow a blast of heat to smack me in the face. I know I should be happy to finally feel an air temperature warmer than anything I’ve been around in almost a year, but that’s what makes it unbearable. I suddenly regret wearing a sweater.

We step out onto a dark orange path that leads a few paces to the left before opening up to a straight walkway. In the center of the walkway is an open area that has a path on the right that leads to a long bridge and a very short path on the left that leads to a towering reddish-white building with the word “LAB” written above closed double doors. It’s obvious where we’re going, but I can’t help but wonder where we would go if we kept going straight. From what I can see, a set of stairs leads down to a dark blue area, and I think I can faintly hear the sound of rushing water.

We turn left and approach the unwelcoming building. Does Asgore have some sort of keypass to get in? I don’t see anything that suggests how to unlock the doors. Yet when we’re close enough, the doors just open and we stroll on in as if we own the place. Well, maybe Asgore technically owns it, but still, Alphys doesn’t have any locking mechanisms on her lab? She just leaves it open for anyone to walk on in for a chat?

The real question is what her lab looks like. If I remember correctly, the elevator Gaster took to get us to New Home had two buttons labeled _Upper Lab_ and _Lower Lab_. Would this be considered the Upper Lab then?

The first thing I notice is how bright the walls are, a lime green that nearly burns my retinas. It doesn’t help that the floor is a light blue with the green running through it to create a checkered pattern, adding to the intensity of the brightness. After a narrow entrance, the room opens up a little bit more to reveal a second level on the left side, but I can’t see much of what the open room contains. A narrow, descending escalator is built snugly against the left wall, and I see its twin on the far side of the room that most likely ascends to the second level. To the right of the first escalator is a large screen monitor that seems to have a camera built in as it displays us walking by.

Then, perhaps the dreariest sight in the room, is a large, dark reddish-brown desk with a single computer on it surrounded by piles of bowls and papers with incoherent notes scattered all over them. Surprisingly, the trash can appears to be empty. I think Alphys might need someone to help her do some late spring-cleaning. The only bright spot on the desk is a figurine of a human with cat ears… interesting.

A tall fridge hums just inches away from the desk, followed by a giant, crinkled bag of dog food. The only other accessible item on the left wall is a white door that doesn’t have a handle on it, which seems to be the trend for most of the doors in this place. In between the door and the second escalator is a small, turquoise-blue plaque with a yellow figure on it that seems to be shaped like Alphys. I glance up the escalator and catch the sight of a few book shelves, and when I back up, I see the hint of a pink poster. Is that technically her room up there? I guess the plaque would be a subtle way of telling visitors that she’s the only one “authorized” to go up the escalator.

There’s nothing on the right wall but a few pipes looping in and out of the walls high above my head, although they are more numerous than the few on the left.

I certainly have questions for Alphys now, although I don’t think I could ask them without seeming judgmental or overbearing.

In all the time I took in the scenery, Asgore had been calling for Alphys, but it’s been a good three minutes and there’s no sign of her.

“Do you think she forgot?” I ask, seeing that as a likely possibility considering what a mess her desk is. A workspace that cluttered says she has too many things on her mind.

“No, I spoke with her in person last night; she wouldn’t forget that easily,” he replies, concern beginning to etch its way across his face. I think he worries too much about everybody.

“Did you agree to meet here? Or could it have been the resort? Or is there another laboratory?”

_Don’t push it._

“No, we specifically agreed on this location, and there isn’t any other lab.”

I glance at the unmarked white door. Could it be…?

No. If I’m right, do I really want to do that to myself?

But at the same time, Asgore doesn’t know about the Lower Lab… the _True_ Lab, the place where the real damage has been done. And even though he’ll never know about the atrocities committed in it, at least he’ll be aware that the Royal Scientist has been keeping secrets from him. Sure, maybe all the lies are what Gaster created, but the fact that Alphys is possibly using the same place just proves that she wants to hide things too.

I approach the door, and it slides open to the right with a loud _whoosh_.

“What are you doing?” Asgore asks.

I step through the entrance and confirm my suspicions when I see buttons labeled _Upper Lab_ and _Lower Lab_ right in the center of the cream-colored panel. I spot the _New Home 1_ and _New Home 2_ options, slightly smirking at the sight of the rest of them remaining unnamed. This is the _exact same elevator_.

What an ingenious way to conceal it, to omit the option of the arrows on the outside and make the door narrower than every other one I’ve seen.

“Would you consider the ‘Lower Lab’ to be the same as this one?” I ask innocently.

“‘Lower Lab’?” he asks, stepping towards the entrance.

“You’ve never been through this door in the past? Or is there another way to get to the Lower Lab? Do you think she could have thought you wanted to meet there?” I say everything in an even tone, making sure not sprinkle too much innocent sugar onto my voice.

“There is no Lower Lab,” the king replies, his concern beginning to simmer into suspicion.

“Are you sure? It says it right here,” I say, pointing to the button. “I only approached this door because I wondered if this led to another section of the lab, but apparently it’s an elevator.”

Asgore has to enter sideways as his shoulders are too wide for the narrow entrance, but at least the space is big enough to fit us both comfortably.

“She never told me she constructed a second laboratory,” Asgore mutters to himself. He glances at me, “Are you sure you want to go with me? If you’re uncomfortable with this we can schedule a proper time and meeting place with her.”

“It’s fine, I think the wait’s been long enough. Besides, I’m aching for some adventure.”

He smiles a little and presses the button labeled _Lower Lab_. I notice that a second door slides in front of us rather than the original white one, and we begin to descend.

“I will try to remain calm as much as possible, but if I do happen to raise my voice, just keep in mind that I’m upset that she’s been keeping such an immense secret from me. Alphys is a good scientist and an even better friend, but I didn’t think she’d resort to something as drastic as this.”

I feel a little guilty that he’ll be mad at her for something that isn’t her fault, but still, she knew about the lab when Gaster existed, and she didn’t tell Asgore immediately after discovering it, if that even was her first time down there.

“I’ve been yelled at for reasons far less severe than that; I won’t be shocked if you get a little angry. The Royal Scientist should not be keeping secrets from the king.”

The elevator stops and the door opens to the left, the sight before me causing my heart to feel like someone’s crushing it in their grip. I should have prepared for this on the way down, but of course I didn’t think I would react so quickly.

We cautiously step into the freezing hallway, Asgore going first. A few steps forward and the door shuts behind us, revealing the gray color it had when I entered it just two months ago.

I turn back to the silent halls and my heart rate begins to pick up despite the increasing suffocation in my chest. The teal walls seem to cackle with laughter, welcoming me home. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around myself, not only to keep warm, but to feel some sense of protection. It’s a pointless action in terms of safety, but it’s always worked to give me a sense of comfort.

“How long ago did she build this?” Asgore asks, stunned.

“How are we going to find her?” I ask in reply, hoping he can’t hear how tight my voice is.

He turns back to me and his eyes widen at my hunched shoulders. “Oh dear, it’s really cold here, isn’t it?”

I nod, “Good thing I have a sweater, at least.” I don’t regret wearing it now.

“Well uh, let’s just see if we can find her,” he says apprehensively, choosing to walk straight instead of turning down the hallways on either side of us.

I walk next to him, refusing to follow behind like a prisoner. I keep my arms crossed tightly against me, feeling chills gleefully travel through my body. The longer we walk, the worse I feel. Dread begins to poison my mind, telling me I won’t leave this time, that I’m now truly stuck here forever.

Asgore calls for Alphys every time we pass a hallway that branches off, but there’s nothing but silence in response. Where is she?

We take a few turns, but everything begins to look the same very quickly: teal walls and closed doors. Until we turn right, causing us to end up in the one hallway I know all too well.

Asgore’s eyebrows raise at the room with no door, a prison cell hiding in plain sight.

“Why does this room not have a door?” he asks no one.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst as I stare at the all too familiar room. Asgore steps inside, examining the platforms hanging on the walls. “What would she even use this room for?” He turns around when he hears my retreating footsteps, backing as far away from the entrance as possible. I am **_never_ ** setting foot inside that cell again. “Are you alright? You’re pale.”

Oh, I bet every speck of warmth has left my face. There isn’t a drop of heat anywhere in my body. “Can we just keep looking for Alphys?” I ask, my voice only a whisper.

“Okay then. Is it too cold down here? Really, we can arrange to meet with her in a proper setting some other time.”

“No, let’s just see what explanation she has for this,” I reply, a note of bitterness snarling underneath my voice.

The halls are silent for another minute of walking before we hear a shriek echoing to our left. We stop, eyes wide when another yell quickly follows. We pick up the pace, following a few short twists and turns before we reach a closed door.

“I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry! I- I’ll fix it! E- everything will b- be okay!” Alphys screams. What sounds like the howling of multiple dogs responds. If I had gained any warmth within the past minute, I’ve lost it all over again.

Asgore gasps when he hears the howls and his hand flies to the door knob. Instinctively, I’m about to tell him that it won’t open, since everything is locked with its own special key. But the door freely swings open, revealing the horrors hiding on the other side.

My eyes widen at the sight of a towering white creature with six legs, each one bending like the hind legs of a dog. Its feet look exactly like paws; they fan out and around the creature’s body like the curved ends of an umbrella. Its body is covered in what appears to be fur and silhouettes of sitting dogs form in the shadows between each leg. White eyes peer through the shadows, as if there really are multiple dogs hiding under the creature’s protection. Its head does not have a face, but rather a black hole that is constantly changing in size. A black liquid oozes from the orifice, and I’m afraid that it may be its mouth. At the top of its head, two pointy ears stick up in alert, and I spot the creature’s tail wagging fast enough for it to be seen past its giant form. Its whole body trembles with a sickening urgency, as if it’s begging for someone to release it from an agonizing existence.  

“Aah! A- A- Asgore! W- what are you doing here?” Alphys asks the king in a panic.

He enters the room, his expression heavy with concern and maybe even fear as he examines the creature. I back away, keeping one eye on the creature and another on Alphys.

“Alphys,” he says in a hushed voice, “Alphys what did you do?”

“I- I- r- remember all those years ago, w- when you said s- something about ‘Determination?’ A- and that we should r- research it to find a way to break the Barrier s- sooner?”

“Yes,” he replies, still watching the dog-like creature that continues to tremble, but at least it’s quiet.

“W- well, after finishing M- Mettaton, I figured I should begin to look into that. Since, I haven’t done anything too useful over the years, maybe I could actually help everyone this way.” She looks at the ground in shame. “I- I found multiple tubes down here that were labeled as ‘Determination.’ I have no idea where they came from, but the liquid inside them was a dark red, almost black. After a few tests, I discovered that it was actual human _Determination_ , like someone had extracted it directly from SOULs. S- so, I asked some families if I could use it on people they knew who had already fallen down, just to see if their SOULs could persist after death. A- and they all melted! All six of those dogs melted together, and then Shyren’s sister... and then Mrs. Drake!”

Alphys bursts into tears, smashing her hands against her face. The ears on the dog amalgamation droop. Are the monster dogs in there still... aware? Are each of the individuals reacting to this in their own ways?

“Alphys,” Asgore says softly.

“It’s my fault! I was stupid. _So stupid_! To think I could change anything for the better. A- and then that flower, that damned flower! I don’t know where it went! I- I thought I should first test the Determination on something that didn’t have a SOUL. A- after all, what would happen to something without a SOUL if it suddenly gained the will to live? W- well clearly it didn’t want to stick around long enough for me to find out!”

She sobs into her hands and Asgore puts a hand on her shoulder. He looks back at me and shakes his head. “You know the way back,” he whispers.

For once, it’s not a question or an implication; it’s an order. With one last glance at the dog, I back away into the hall. For the first minute, Alphys’ sobs echo behind me, disturbing enough to distract me from what this place is. But when I’m far enough, silence greets me with sadistic torment. My pace increases, yet I’m shivering. It feels like something is following me, and I stop dead in my tracks.

Whispers begin to hiss from the nearby halls and my ears start ringing. I’m not even sure if the voices are real, but they make me want to curl up in a ball and hide.

_Keep moving. The elevator’s gotta be somewhere around here._

I take a step when a sharp voice hisses behind me, “Welcome to my special hell.”

I freeze, feeling the presence of three SOULs behind me. However, despite feeling brave enough to search with my magic, I can’t find the strength to move. I can tell the creature is approaching me, but it seems to be dragging its feet, giving me more than enough time to get away.

_What are you doing you idiot? Run!_

Like the sudden snap of a rubber band, I bolt. Not caring about where I turn, I just run.

A garbled mess of voices begins to scream through the halls, followed by a shriek filled with so much pain I can only say it sounds like it belongs to someone who just lost a loved one.

Somehow, someway, I find the gray door of the elevator. Without a pause, I slam my hand against the “up” arrow, the only button next to it, and the door mercifully opens. I take two steps in and hit the _New Home 2_ button, knowing exactly where I’ll show up.

I turn around to do one more survey of the halls, and my throat tightens when a figure slowly inches around a corner. It appears to be similar to a bird, with light blue feathers and a yellow beak. But that’s where the similarities end as the left side of its face repeatedly shifts up and down. The rest of its body seems to be in a puddle as it drags itself along. It keeps closing its yellow eyes in exhaustion, and my heart aches the slightest bit when it fixes its gaze on me.

“Sn… o… wy…?” it asks in a soft voice.

A set of double doors close before I can react, leaving me to stare wide-eyed at my distorted reflection, even when I can feel the elevator moving.

That voice… I tighten my arms around myself, shivering as if I’m in the middle of a blizzard in a swimsuit. The ride seems instantaneous and infinite at the same time, my incoherent thoughts jumping from one image to another.

When the doors open, I focus my thoughts on the fact that it seems there are doors set for different destinations. Alphys’ door in her lab is white, then there’s the gray one for the lab, and then for New Home it’s a set of double doors. I don’t even want to question why, I’m sure it falls under a category of monster logic I wouldn’t understand.

Instead of turning right to head to the house, I go left instead, keeping my head down.

I walk into the Judgement Hall, unsure of where I intend to go before I find myself sitting against a pillar on the right wall, facing the fourth window.

Despite how much warmer the air is compared to the lab, I can’t stop shivering as the last creature’s voice continues to whimper in my mind. It said the word like it was asking for a person it knew was already dead. Or maybe it just assumed that it would never see that person again. The loneliness that amalgamation must feel…

Those creatures couldn’t return to society like that. I’m sure they’re terrifying to look at for even the monsters. But then, is that where they’ll stay, forever? Locked in that freezing, dark lab with nothing but silence to accompany them?

I hug my knees to my chest, feeling a dull, throbbing pain in familiar spots on my back. The more my adrenaline wears off, the more I begin to hurt, yet I can’t find the will to move. I stare at the golden light beaming through the window, trying to chase away the images of teal walls. Even though it’s silent, the thought of forever basking in the glow of the Judgement Hall entices me. This is a safe place, where the light banishes any sense of fear or panic.

I can only wonder what sort of conversation Asgore is having with Alphys right now. The two of them just might drive themselves crazy questioning the Lower Lab’s existence and the numerous vials of Determination. The only factor I’m worried about is that flower she mentioned. What _does_ happen when something without a SOUL gains the will to live? At the very least, it obviously obtains some form of sentience.

A shadow suddenly looms above me, and I look up to see a partial silhouette of Sans.

He raises an eye socket, “Well that was a quick meeting, less than forty minutes. And then you came here with Asgore nowhere in sight.”

“He stayed behind to talk to her alone,” I reply, turning my head to the left so I look at the pillar.

“And you went here in the meantime rather than going back to the house.” I shrug and move my gaze onto the checkered floor. “Huh, I didn’t know this place intrigued you as much as it does to me,” he says, sitting next to me, seeming completely at home.

I raise an eyebrow and look at him out of the corner of my eye, “This place intrigues you?”

“Heh, remember when I told you I see things in my mind that I’m not sure if they’re part of my past or future?”

“Yeah,” I say, finally facing him.

“Well, everyday I’m slowly remembering more and more about my past life, but the details are never concrete. I can just picture different rooms or hear tones of voices. But when I’m in here, it’s like I’m seeing incidents as if they’re occurring right in front of me. That tells me they’re not memories of my past; they’re memories of my future.”

“How is that possible?”

“I can only guess that it’s linked to my magic; Papyrus hasn’t said anything about it happening to him. Which of course, I’m glad he doesn’t have somethin’ like that bothering him.”

“What kind of ‘incidents’ do you mean?”

The lights in his eyes seem to dim as he gazes at the window. “Violent ones. Battles for life that seem simultaneously important and meaningless. Most of the time I see myself in third person, using all sorts of bullet attacks.”

“Have you seen who you’re attacking?”

“No, but I have seen you,” my throat tightens, “fighting next to me.”

“What about Papyrus or Asgore?” I ask, wanting to move away from questioning what the two of us would be fighting together.

“Nowhere to be seen, maybe I just haven’t been in here enough times,” he says, casually putting his hands behind his head like he couldn’t be bothered by the frightening possibilities.

I look back at the cavernous hall, my hands beginning to anxiously twitch when I wonder if what he’s seen implies that this is the place where we’ll die. If that’s what it means, then just _what_ exactly will kill us?

“But anyway, you seem a little withdrawn. Well, more-so than usual,” he gives me a wink, but I don’t have the strength to force a smile at his teasing. “Did Dr. Alphys freak out that you’re a human?”

“I don’t think she even saw me with what was happening around us,” I say, allowing the chills to return that Sans had somehow erased.

His smile drops a little, “What was it?”

I bite my lip, wondering if I should explain everything. It wouldn’t hurt him… would it? Or would my explanation of the amalgamates bring up bad memories that he won’t be able to shake?

“Did you guys end up going somewhere you didn’t expect to go?” he asks, as if he’s already learning the story just based on my hesitation.

_His memories are returning anyway, and besides, you agreed not to lie to him._

However, withholding information from someone isn’t the same as lying… is it?

I sigh and somehow end up telling him everything that happened, not even omitting how terrified I was. In terms of experience, Sans is the only one I can talk to who understands. Sure he doesn’t remember vivid details, but at least he knows what it feels like to be a prisoner, to be powerless. He’s the only one who knows the answer to the clues that no one else will ever discover. Keeping secrets from him in relation to the lab will only hurt us both, and besides, it’s nice to have a friend who understands when no one else will. Or rather, he understands when no one else _can_.

When I finish my explanation, his expression remains unreadable, and I look back at the window, not bothering to try to figure out what he might be thinking. My fingers continue to twitch, even as I tightly cup them around my knees.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told him; he’s dealt with enough already in his short life.

Why do I always use other people as crutches to deal with my problems? All it does is make life more miserable for them. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

“Do you think those monsters deserve what happened to them?” Sans asks, jarring the silence.

“No, of course not,” I say, facing him. “Why would you ask something like that?”

“Do you think Asgore deserves all the stress he has to deal with as king?”

“No,” I respond, confused.

“Then why do you believe you deserve what you’ve been through?”

“I never said that.”

“C’mon, Krista, you don’t have to say it; I can see how you feel. I don’t even have to guess to figure out that you feel bad for telling me about what happened in the lab. Why are you so certain that your pain is deserved?”

His question throws me off, and I struggle to find a valid response.

“Because… I’m _me_. There’s no other way to explain it. What I’ve experienced… it all happened for a reason, and I’m sure I’ve deserved all of it to a certain degree.”

“Just because you experience it does not mean you deserve it,” he says sharply.

“Why are you so concerned about this?”

“Because what you believe is a _lie_.”

“And why does that matter so much to you? Your brother is doing great; I can see his self-confidence rising every day. And if I’m correct in assuming that you’re at least in a good mood most of the time, then why are you so interested in what I’m feeling? Why don’t you help Asgore with all the emotional baggage he’s dealing with?”

“Because I know you’ve been ignored the most.”

My brows furrow in disbelief. “I’m fine on my own.”

“You clearly aren’t.”

A hint of anger sears through me, “I don’t need your pity.”

“And I don’t need yours.” He turns his head to the side as if he just laid out the winning cards in the final round of a poker tournament.

I scoff and look back at the checkered floor. “So where does this leave us? What are we supposed to do?”

“We keep up these friendly conversations,” he stands, “and maybe one day you’ll tell me your full story.”

“What’s your goal in all of this?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“Like Papyrus, I’d like to have friends too, but not as many as him; I think one is fine,” he gives me a wink.

Somehow, I start to feel myself smiling, “Alright then, but for one,” I stand and we begin to walk back to the house, “most people don’t discuss their traumatic pasts in the icebreaker conversations. They’re usually reserved for the three month anniversary at the earliest.”

“I’ve just been so excited to get to know a human that I decided to skip asking what your favorite color is. But now that we’ve both offended each other in some way, what is your favorite color?”

I laugh at the absurdity of it all, and it takes me a couple seconds to realize how genuine it is. When was the last time I actually _laughed_? Probably a lifetime ago, as everything feels nowadays.

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll admit, I think I’m stuck between three.”

“I’d still count them all as one. What are they?”

“Blue and purple, and _very specific_ shades for green.”

“Omitting the lab?” he simply says.

“Yeah, I never thought a color would disturb me as deeply as it does. It’s made me realize that green and I have a very complicated relationship.”

“What do you like about it?”

“It was the color of my sister’s eyes, but a really light shade like the color on those sweaters with the yellow stripes. There’s also a different tint that reminds me of what my home looked like, but it’s much richer than anything I’ve seen in the Underground.”

“‘Sister?’” he asks. My cheeks warm and I remember that the differences in gender were not something Asgore or I really wanted to address with the boys. I search for a description that would make the explanation as normal as possible.

“Yeah, it’s the same connection as having a brother, you both share the same parents, or in a monster’s case, parts of a SOUL from the same two people. Well, pretty much all cases are two people, but you don’t need an example of a rare possibility. Having a brother just means that person is considered a boy and a sister is considered a girl.”

He squints a little at my fumbled words, “I’m guessing it’s not a very pleasant topic to talk about.”

“Yeah, I think you can tell it’s an awkward subject,” I say quickly.

“I’m not gonna ask anymore; I think I get the gist.”

We reach the end of the bridge with the view of New Home City and enter the hallway leading to the steps.

“So what’s your favorite color then?” I ask, wanting to shake away any last hints of awkwardness.

“I think I’ve got three favorites too,” he says with a grin.

“Really?”

“Yeah, my top two are blue and orange, but I can’t really say why I exactly like them.”

We enter the house and I spot Papyrus working on a puzzle at the dinner table.

“Most people don’t know why they favor colors, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with not having a reason. But anyway, what’s the third one?”

He smiles, “I think I’m liking purple a little more each day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans just means that he's trusting Krista more as they get to know each other. Even though he doesn't really show it, he feels bad for assuming what her past was like.


	12. Bittersweet

Asgore didn’t arrive at the house until mid-afternoon, and despite how tired he seemed, he insisted that we were going to the city. Five minutes later, we’re entering the elevator just outside the gray hallway, at the beginning of the bridge.

The king presses the button so quickly I have no idea which one it is of the twelve on the panel. We descend for a few seconds before the doors open up to a cobblestone street right in the middle of the towering buildings.

“Welcome to New Home City, little ones,” Asgore says, his tone a bit strained. The boys walk ahead and I raise an eyebrow at the king. He shakes his head, and I can’t tell if it means he refuses to explain what happened with Alphys or if he just wants to see how the monsters react when they see us.

Asgore takes the lead, and we follow close to his right, almost in a horizontal line. I try to ignore the few monsters we pass, instead forcing my focus on the buildings. From what I hear, they only seem to notice Asgore anyway, greeting him with questions or a simple, “Your Majesty.”

Most of the buildings seem to be made out of brick or stone, maybe even marble. Their roofs range from domes to flat surfaces with square spikes, reminding me of pictures I’ve seen of ancient Rome. Based on how tall so many of them are, I wonder just how far away those fake stars are on the ceiling. They’re glowing brightly, but it casts the city in an eerie gray light, or maybe that’s just because all the buildings are either white or gray.

We reach a wide road that opens up to what looks like a market, with monsters clamoring for each other’s attention. I glance at the boys to see Papyrus’ face light up at the sight of so many people.

“This is the City Market, and this road stretches all around New Home so it’s easily accessible to all who live here,” Asgore says, motioning to the vendors that line either sides of the street. They seem to be selling anything, from food to clothes, to even what appear to be fairly modern cell phones. How does one get reception down here? I haven’t seen any cell towers. Could magic really be the explanation for that too? I’m amazed that humans didn’t fight harder to keep such a versatile tool.

I find myself inching closer to the boys as we walk down the street, vendors pausing to look up. Most of them seem confused at the sight of us, but a few faces indicate a mixture of anxiety and anger.

I try to hide my surprise as I look back at them, my stomach clenching at the sight of so many faces that are inhuman yet express emotions that only humans can so easily convey. Like Asgore, almost all of them have features similar to a specific animal. To name a few, I notice frogs, horses, rabbits, mice, and even bugs. Then there are others that look more like actual monsters to me, with features so unnatural it’s easy to believe that they’re almost entirely made of magic.

It’s only when the Market’s loud chattering quiets to murmurs do I truly begin to feel uncomfortable. More and more faces turn their attention to us, and I let a few waves of hair conceal the right side of my face. Maybe this was a bad idea. I haven’t had this many people look at me since my mom’s funeral.

What appear to be two ferret-like monsters catch my attention when the one looks to be a child, holding her mother’s hand. When we pass by, I hear the little girl ask, “Mommy, what are those monsters? I’ve never seen anyone like them.”

“I don’t know, I haven’t either,” the mother replies.

I bite my lip, preparing to hear more scrutiny when a blue, dragon-looking monster approaches Asgore, its face set with a grim expression.

“Your Majesty,” the dragon says with a slight bow.

“Howdy Gerald, what can I help you with?” Asgore asks as if there’s absolutely nothing wrong.

Whoa wait, did he just say, “Howdy”? _Howdy_ ? I have _never_ heard anyone use that as an actual greeting, especially not someone in a position of power. I try to hold back a laugh at the ridiculous informality. It’s like Asgore _wants_ people to forget that he’s king and instead see him as a fun neighbor who just so happens to decide what the neighborhood’s rules will be.

“Well, heh,” Gerald slightly laughs, “can you explain to me why you brought-” he looks at each of us, his face transforming from confusion to horror when his narrow eyes land on me. “W- why you brought beings that _shouldn’t_ be here,” he finally says, his voice hushed.

“I’m just showing them a little bit of the Market before we go to the Royal Garden,” the king replies good-naturedly.

“Yes, but… I’m certain you don’t need to be reminded that not many of these monsters know what skeletons and humans look like; there will be _questions_.”

“Do you believe I should explain, then?”

“I am just afraid that this was not a wise decision, Your Majesty.”

Asgore gives Gerald a warm smile before raising his arm and throwing a fireball into the air, instantly gaining everyone’s attention.

“Everyone, I would like to introduce you to some new members of our kingdom. This is Papyrus, Sans, and Krista, please make them feel as welcome as possible. I know I don’t have to remind you that appearances are nothing more than mere barriers against discovering new friends, but that idea can be easy to forget with first impressions. I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your day.”

My eyes widen and I stare at Asgore, his bold directness stunning me. Apparently it stunned Gerald too as he stares at his king with a dumbfounded expression.

“I think enough of their questions will disappear after hearing that, don’t you think?” Asgore asks Gerald.

The dragon simply nods, “Y- yes, I’m sorry for doubting you, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t worry, that’s part of your job anyway.” Asgore pats Gerald on the shoulder before turning his attention to a nearby monster that looks like a duck.

Sans nudges my arm with his elbow, his eyes as wide as mine.

“I guess that’s why he’s the king,” I say.

“No doubt about that now,” he says with finality.

“Did you actually question whether or not he was?”

“A little bit, maybe all those button-down shirts and life lessons made him seem less like an authority figure.”

“Or maybe we’ve just had the wrong idea of what an authority figure is like,” I shrug.

“Probably,” he admits.

I’m about to say more to get away from the subject when I feel something tug my sweater’s sleeve. My head whips to the right to see the little ferret monster staring up at me, her pink nose twitching. Her mother stands a few feet away with a slightly anxious expression.

“Hi, uh, King Asgore said we should be welcoming. So I wanted to say hello since no one else did and uh, you’re just so different from everyone else, but I don’t mean that in a bad way! You’re name’s Krista, right?”

I’m so stunned I just say, “Yeah.”

“Oh good! I didn’t want to guess wrong, but then I thought it might’ve been rude if I asked.”

“Uh, no it’s fine. What’s your name?” I ask, trying to dig up the demeanor I usually have when interacting with kids.

She suddenly ducks her head, as if her name won’t live up to my expectations. “Adalie,” she says in that shy voice I’ve heard so many kids use. I lean down a bit so I’m at her eye level.

“That’s really pretty, and it’s unique, too,” I say brightly, wanting her confidence to return.

“You think so? My mom says it’s an old family name.”

“That makes it even better.”

“How? A boy in my class said that makes me less unique, that I’m just part of a long line of copies.”

“Well, we only use names to identify ourselves, but they’re just a small portion of who we are. Your name carries reminders of those before you and carries a hope for those beyond you. What you do in life will make you the Adalie everyone remembers for… what?”

Her eyes widen and she wrings her hands together, “Helps everyone see the sun someday?”

“There’s your goal, and I can’t wait for you to achieve it,” I say with a smile, straightening back up to my full height. The last thing I’ll do is explain that her goal is impossible for her to achieve. However, even though she won’t be remembered for breaking the Barrier, maybe she will be remembered as the first Adalie to see the sun in over a thousand years.

Adalie’s mother places a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, mouthing a silent, “Thank you,” to me. I’m not really sure what she’s thanking me for, but I give her a smile in acknowledgement.

“Come on hon, we’ve still got a lot of shopping to do for your cousin’s birthday,” she says.

“Oh right, but will I see you again?” Adalie asks me.

“I’m sure of it,” I say with as much confidence as possible.

Her face brightens with a smile as her mother grabs her hand, gently leading Adalie in the direction opposite of us. When they’re a few paces away, her mother leans down and says, “I’m proud of you; you’re gaining confidence.”

I can only bet that she was the one who told Adalie to talk to me, but whether she wanted to or not, I’m glad the little ferret is trying to be less shy. Who knows what great things she’ll be remembered for?

“Look who’s making friends already,” I hear Sans say, his voice lacking the sarcasm I’d expect.

“Well, _she_ approached _me_ , so I wouldn’t say I had anything to do with that interaction.”

“You got her to smile, that’s the start of a friendship in my book.”

“A comedian can get entire crowds to laugh so hard they can barely breathe, that doesn’t necessarily mean there’s a friendship forming between all those people and that single person.”

“Watch, I’ll find a way to make friends with everyone I can get to smile _and_ laugh,” he says with confidence.

“Oh? Is this a challenge or a bet?”

“I’m not sure yet, but when I win, I’ll let you know what I want my prize to be.”

“Fine, the challenge/bet is accepted,” I say with a smirk, even though I’m a little nervous that I might actually lose. After all, he got _me_ to laugh.

I look away from him to see Asgore still talking with that duck monster and Papyrus excitedly chattering to a hamster-like vendor. From what I can see, the vendor’s overwhelmed with the amount of enthusiasm Papyrus exhibits.

“I think he’ll make a real friend before either of us does,” I say.

“Yeah, who could say ‘no’ to that much coolness?” Sans says, admiration humming in his tone.

We approach the hamster’s wooden kiosk, and I see that it’s filled with boxes of colorful puzzles.

“Sans! Krista! Did you see these? A few of them are over two thousand pieces!” Papyrus says, practically jumping up and down.

“Whoa, that’d take me a year to finish one of those,” his brother says wholeheartedly.

“Maybe on your own, but with _my_ help, we could finish one in a single day!” Papyrus declares triumphantly.

“How much is one?” I ask the vendor.

His bushy eyebrows finally lower a bit at my calm tone; it’s probably a shock to him after hearing Papyrus’ nearly yelling voice this whole time.

“They’re Thirty-G a box,” he replies with a slight accent that thickens his tone, as if there’s peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“‘G?’ What does that mean?” Papyrus asks.

“I’ll take two boxes,” Asgore says behind us, “Pick whichever pattern you’d like.”

He hands the vendor two gold coins with the number 30 written on each of them.

“Does ‘G’ mean gold?” I ask.

“That’s right,” he says.

Huh, it’s definitely an archaic form of currency, and it’s pretty inconvenient. It’s as if the monsters are stuck between an ancient time and the modern world.

Papyrus ends up picking one puzzle with a picture of New Home City and the other with what looks to be a pattern of cyan flowers, similar to those I’ve seen that live in Waterfall.

We only travel on the market road for a few more minutes, with occasional stops as monsters speak with their king. No others are bold enough to approach the boys or me, instead keeping their distances. I hope it’s merely because they don’t want to crowd around the king, but a malicious voice in my head says they’re avoiding _us_. I’m relieved when Asgore eventually takes a right, leading us through a narrow street that opens up to a path made of grass rather than cobblestone.

“And this leads us to the Royal Garden,” the king announces.

The path opens up to a small, grassy area filled with so many different flowers I don’t even recognize most of them. Bursts of color wave in the light breeze, and it’s no surprise that the golden flowers are at the center of it all in an elevated garden bed. Then the path narrows again into different options on the other side of the garden, all leading to what appear to be brightly lit greenhouses.

“What are those for?” Sans asks, pointing to the buildings.

“They are where we grow most of our food, with methods somewhat similar to what we once used on the Surface,” the king replies. “If we had time, I’d give you a tour of them.”

“Do you guys use special lights or magic to replicate the sun’s rays?” I ask, remembering when I wondered that all those months ago.

“A bit of both; we prefer to rely on science more often than magic, but if we have to use it, we will.”

Asgore gives us a tour of the Garden, and I quickly realize its size is only about four times bigger than the one in the Throne Room, and that’s not saying much. There are definitely some unique plants that live here, but none are so exotic that I’d question their origins. I can believe they’d grow in the ecosystem I’m familiar with aboveground.

It’s when we reach the fruit trees do my eyes widen, the scents of each of them hitting me at once. I stare at the long lines of trees, each row distinguished by a specific fruit. Two chameleon-like monsters stand at attention on either sides of the fruit orchard, their expressions stoic when they spot the king. Asgore tells them to take a five minute break while we’re here, ensuring them that nothing will happen to the fruit on his watch, as if he’s some master guardsman. The chameleons don’t even hesitate, grateful to their king for the break. I wonder just how long they have to stand there all day, guarding fruit I doubt anyone would want to steal. Maybe they mediate what fruits citizens can buy straight off the branch.

“We can usually get the trees to produce fruit at any time of year, although some of them can tend to be stubborn in the winter months. Many vendors purchase the fruits here to sell to the rest of the Underground. This area is just a small taste of the larger orchards we have in other parts of the city, but I felt we should have a few trees close to the Market,” Asgore says.

My eyes scan each row, searching for a particular fruit before I even realize I want it.

“Would we be able to pick one?” Sans smoothly asks.

“Sure, just make sure they’re ripe,” the king replies.

Papyrus runs to the first row, searching the branches of multi-colored apples. When Asgore brought some for us a week ago, it seemed like that had become his most favorite fruit.

I walk past the rows, staring at the branches: oranges, peaches, cherries, lemons… pears. I stop in front of the tree, staring at the mostly dark green delicacies. My mother told me that pears never truly ripen on the tree. If they’re left on the branch for too long, then they’ll be mushy. They’ll most likely be rock-hard if you pick them when they’re dark green, but at least they’ll be perfectly ripe within a couple of days. Mable and I often didn’t care if we wanted them as soon as possible and simply judged ripeness based on the colors lightening to nearly yellow.

I walk down the row until I find one exactly like that on a low branch, just on the verge of turning yellow. I pick the pear off as if it’s a fragile artifact, cupping it between my hands. As expected, it’s not as soft as a perfectly ripe one should be, but I don’t care, it’s another piece of home. The pears here are actually about double the size of the ones our tree produced, making me feel like a lowly peasant in comparison to these royal delicacies.

I guess this is the closest I’ll ever get to visiting a pear orchard, just like Mable had always wanted. I grip the fruit tighter, my heart aching.

“What makes these so special?” I hear Sans ask to my right.

I turn to see him rolling a peach between his hands, but he doesn’t seem to be as interested in it as Papyrus is with apples or I am with my pear.

“Just another reminder of home,” I say, looking back at the tree, tempted to stroke its bark.

“Did you have one of these?”

“Yeah, it grew near my house, saved our lives more than once,” I say before I remember who I’m talking to.

“How?”

“Oh, uh, just because sometimes it was our one source of food when there was nothing else. But still, it couldn’t help us every time.”

“So… does it remind you of bad memories or good ones?”

“It’s both, Sans, and they’re always fighting for me to favor one or the other. But when it comes to this fruit, I remember both. Bittersweet is a beautiful word for it.”

He glances up at the tree as Asgore appears at the end of the row.

“Alright little ones, would you say you’re ready to head back?” Asgore asks, and I can see the exhaustion in his eyes; I bet he’s still worried about Alphys. A few paces behind him, I spot the chameleons making their way back to their posts.

“Yep, we’ll be right there,” I say. He begins to head back to the flowers, and I see Papyrus following him.

Sans is still staring at the pear tree, and I give him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s just me, but I’m set with this one as my favorite. Maybe we can convince Asgore to bring some for us; you’ll see why I’m a total fangirl.” He squints at me and I smile, heading back to the flowers.

Asgore and Papyrus wait by a cluster of blue roses, not too far from what I’d call the Royal Fruit Orchard. Not two seconds after I reach them does Sans show up, his hands cupped close to his chest, presumably protecting the peach. It seems that Papyrus ate his apple, but like Sans, I keep my pear close, not ready to give up its presence so quickly.

We walk back the way we came, the boys ahead of me as I linger in the garden. It’s the closest to home I’ve felt in months, with the scents of natural flowers competing with my pear’s. But like everything good or bad, it can’t last forever.

I make my steps more purposeful, telling myself not to be bothered with leaving. I’m sure I’ll experience this beauty again.

We’re almost to the end of the path, the golden flowers in sight once again. I’m about to pick up speed so I can walk in line with boys when I hear a snicker within the elevated garden bed. I stop, turning to the golden flowers. They gently sway in the breeze, as if they’re innocent to whatever I just heard.

I squint at them, expecting to see the face of one of those little mice monsters I saw earlier, but there’s nothing but the blank faces of normal flowers. Was that just my imagination? I send a small sense of magic through the flowers, searching for the flickering life of a SOUL. Nothing.

I turn back and catch up with the boys, deciding it’s best not to drive myself crazy. I’m probably just paranoid. What else is new?

 Fewer monsters seem to notice us on our way back, and we only stop a handful of times before making it back to the house. Asgore almost immediately heads for his room, declaring he’s going to take a quick nap. Papyrus races in the opposite direction to the table and opens the box of the New Home puzzle.

“Hey Krista,” Sans says, lifting up his hands to reveal the peach in one and a pear in the other.

“We were supposed to only grab _one_ fruit,” I say as if it actually bothers me. “I might have to tell on you.”

“Aww, but then I wouldn’t have the opportunity to understand why these are so amazing,” he tosses the pear in the air, raising an eye socket.

“Well then, if you’re going to eat it, then we might as well share with Papyrus,” I say, snatching the pear out of the air and heading for the kitchen.

“Hey, do you guys want to work on this puzzle with me?” Papyrus asks.

“Sure thing, bro,” Sans takes a seat next to his brother in their usual spot.

I cut up both the pears so there’s an even amount of slices for each of us. The selfish part of me wishes I could have all of them to myself, but I’m glad the boys will get to try the fruit.

I place the bowl in front of Papyrus, so we all have easy access to it. A huge pile of puzzle pieces sits in a mound on the table, with a few hundred more in the box. My eyes widen at all the white and gray pieces, so many that look exactly the same. A small part of me wants to give up already, but I’ll try my best to help them as much as I can.

“This will definitely be a challenge, but I think we’ve got a fighting chance with you,” I say, pulling my chair next to him.

“Oh don’t worry! We will master this together!” Papyrus says triumphantly.

We start poking through the pieces, searching for the ones with flat edges when another bowl lands on the table, filled with peach slices.

I look up at Sans and he gives me a wink, “It’s a day for trying new things.”

“Were these your picks?” Papyrus asks.

“Abso-fruitly,” Sans says.

“Huh?” his brother replies.

“Heh, it’s a pun.”

“I don’t get it,” Papyrus says, with a scrunched face.

“Well it’s a bad one so don’t worry,” I say, grabbing a pear slice.

“I’m learning,” Sans says with a wink.

“And where did this sudden interest come from?”

“I found a book,” he simply says.

“Where?”

“Just around,” he shrugs.

I didn’t think Asgore was the pun-loving type enough to have a book of them, but maybe that’s the form of humor he uses to cope with all the stress in his life.

“Now let’s see if these are any good,” Sans says, grabbing a slice of the peach and pear. He tries the pear first, staring at the ceiling as he critiques its flavor.

I’m about to jump to the defense of the pear as his face scrunches at the taste of it, but then his smile widens.

“I see what you mean, bittersweet.”

“Is it good?” Papyrus asks.

“Bro, we’ve been missing out.”

Papyrus pops a slice in his mouth before I can say anything and his eye sockets lift. “Wowie! That’s really good! I might have to rethink the apples.”

“Hah, well you can like as many as you want. It’s actually better to like a variety,” I say.

He quickly tries the peach and his face lights up even more. “You’re right brother, how have we missed this for so long?”

Papyrus doesn’t seem to realize the weight of his comment as he redirects his attention back to the puzzle. Sans raises an eye socket at me, and I just shrug. It’s better that they experience new things now rather than never having the chance in the first place.


	13. Despite Everything, We Still Love You

The next day, the boys and I toss a frisbee to each other while we wait for Asgore. Apparently, he went to meet with Alphys again this morning; his explanation was brief and he left before we even finished breakfast. Despite how anxious he seemed, he still said we were going to work on offense today. I hope it’ll help him get his mind off the amalgamates.

Do those monsters have families? They must have them, or even friends, if Asgore and Alphys are this freaked out. Unless it was just something they had never witnessed happen to their kind before. From how that bird monster spoke, I’m _certain_ there was someone it was looking for. I almost wish there was some way I could help, but what could _I_ do? I can’t even set foot in that lab without being overwhelmed by my own fear. Yesterday’s experience found its own lovely spot in my subconscious last night; I think it was lucky enough I got a couple hours of sleep in.

Maybe the least I could do is find out more about them from Asgore, I doubt it’d do any good, but maybe it would give me some piece of mind that they’re not suffering.

The frisbee soars over my head, and I have to sprint back a few steps to catch it, almost losing sight of the neon green disk. I need to focus. These boys can sense anxiety a mile away. If either of them asks for my slight error, at least I can blame it on the challenge we’re setting for ourselves. Each time one of us catches the frisbee, we all backup a step. By now, the boys are almost against the walls on either side of the courtyard, and I’m almost standing in the pile of leaves a few feet south of the center of the room.

I regain my footing and send the frisbee soaring towards Papyrus on my right, slightly overcompensating the amount of force I need. The disk glides high above his head and lands just on the edge of the roof.

“Whoops,” I say, “too much force.”

“I’ll say! How are we going to get it?” Papyrus asks.

“Maybe we could stack up the chairs from the dining table?” Sans asks.

“No, no, that’s too risky; I think I can get it!” Papyrus announces, backing up from the house a few steps.

“Wait, what are you trying to do?” I ask as he takes a running start, somehow rising in the air with every step. My eyes widen as he practically runs on the air, until he’s high enough to reach the roof. He grabs the frisbee with triumph as Sans and I stare at him. Papyrus looks back at us, seemingly unaware of what he just did.

“What?” he asks innocently.

“Uh, bro do you realize what you just did?” Sans asks.

Papyrus floats down to the ground as if he’s some sort of superhero, comfortable with the motion despite it being entirely foreign.

“No, I just got the frisbee,” the taller skeleton replies.

“Well, do you know _how_ you did it?” I ask.

“Uh,” he looks back at how high the roof is above his head, “magic? I don’t know, it just seemed like the best method of getting it the fastest.”

“It seems we’ve all got a bunch of crazy tricks that like to show up when it’s most convenient, how ‘bout that?” Sans says, brushing off the oddity of his brother’s sudden reveal of power.

I decide to drop the subject, knowing that questioning it too much would make both of the boys uncomfortable. Instead, I say, “ _Our_ tricks might be a little crazy, Sans, but Papyrus’ are downright cool.”

“Oh definitely, I wish I could practically fly,” Sans says, nudging his brother’s arm. “Can you teach me sometime?”

Papyrus smiles, “Of course brother! I shall teach you both how to achieve such a great ability! Uh, once I figure out how I exactly did it myself.”

His face scrunches the way it always does when he’s trying to figure out a problem, and Sans snatches the frisbee from his hand, tossing it to me. It’s enough to break Papyrus out of his daze as he protests that he wasn’t ready.

About a half hour later, Asgore finally shows up, seemingly ready to spar. However, despite his cheerful attitude and enthusiastic encouragement with Papyrus, I can tell he’s stressed out.

Their practice only lasts for about ten minutes, and Papyrus takes the time to show off his new ability, floating high above a low wall of flames. Asgore is impressed, but I can tell he’s distracted, his attacks are slow and sloppy compared to his usual methods. Even though Papyrus is eager to spar longer, Asgore politely explains that he has a lot of work to do today and waves me over for my turn.

“I’m going to do similar attacks to what I did during our defense practice, only this time you’ll reciprocate with one of your own,” Asgore instructs.

“Got it,” I say, feeling the same rush of excitement that I had when dodging. This is supposed to be fun after all, right?

Asgore begins with a single fireball that I dodge with a quick shield, throwing a shard of magic as thin and sharp as a needle in return. It approaches him so fast, I’m a little nervous it will hit him when he ducks out of the way at the last second. He doesn’t even pause as he picks up speed with his attacks, but almost immediately slows down when I’m replying to them with faster ones, telling myself not to worry about hitting him. He’s the king, I’m sure he’s been in battles against fifty humans at once, all that would definitely be more advanced than me. Even though he seems a little under the weather today, I’m sure his survival instincts will kick in.

He’s able to dodge my attacks even when I’m throwing three shards at once, but adrenaline encourages me to use more, to try more methods. I could use thousands at once, couldn’t I? I could make them appear out of the ground or drop from the ceiling. I could make them so large they’d be impossible to dodge. I wouldn’t even have to use the shards, I bet I could make them look like harmless flowers and they’d still hurt like fire.

I’m tempted to try more, but I restrain myself, sticking to the shards and fair, predictable attacks. The back of my mind continues to whisper the fear of hurting him, and I hold onto it to keep my imagination from becoming my actions. I make sure that my attacks aren’t infused with emotions so they won’t hurt if I hit him. I do, however, increase my speed, dodging and sending attacks in unison.

I don’t even try to keep track of time or worry about what the boys may think as they watch. There’s only fire to dodge and an opponent to send attacks at. I don’t even realize that his attacks and movements have drastically slowed down until it’s too late. I throw a shard towards him at a speed faster than I can sprint, and it strikes straight through his right arm. Asgore cries out in pain, his fire diminishing as he grabs his arm. I freeze, the blood draining from my face at my mistake. The other attacks I had prepared disappear and I rush towards him.

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry, I just got caught up in it and I didn’t realize-”

He holds up a hand and I bite my tongue, a little afraid of how he’ll respond.

“It’s alright, Krista. I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have. It’s good that you’re fast, it’s a challenge.”

He gives me a pained smile, but I can only stare at him, ashamed of my carelessness. I _knew_ he wasn’t at his best today, and all I did was take advantage of that to hurt him, even if it was unintentional.

“I think that ends our practice for today. If you’ll excuse me children, I have some matters to attend to.” Asgore walks back to the house, a hand still protecting his arm. Even when he disappears around the corner, I still stare at the doorway, shame burning my face.

What the hell is wrong with me!? Why do I hurt every single person who tries to be nice to me!? Why was I stupid enough to believe it was okay if I strengthened my magic? I'm not strong enough to resist the temptations of power; my magic took over and I didn't do anything to stop it. Now all I've done is made myself a danger to the few people who tolerate me.

My eyes shift to the boys, their faces tight with concern as they stare at me. I back up a few steps, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. There. Now they know what kind of damage I can do. Now they know I am not someone they should want to care about.

“Krista,” Sans says carefully.

I turn and bolt out of the courtyard, not caring that it will lead to a dead end with only an elevator to escape. Anywhere is better than staying in the same room as them.

I hear the boys call for me, but I keep running until I reach the elevator, slamming my hand against the “down” arrow. I don’t care if I run into monsters in Hotland and they attack me, at least justice will be delivered.

I rip my hair out of its ponytail, hoping it will obscure my face as a slight disguise so I can just find somewhere quiet to hide.

Unfortunately, the boys show up before the doors open, cornering me.

“Krista, it’s okay,” Sans says. “He knows you didn’t mean it.”

“That doesn’t matter,” I say, trying to keep my voice even as I stare at the doors. They finally open but Papyrus steps in my way before I can move. I back up a few steps, feeling like I’m trapped in a cage again. My heart speeds up even faster, my breaths shortening and nearing what I dread the most: hyperventilating. I don’t want them to see me like this. They shouldn’t care this much to comfort _me_ rather than the person who actually got hurt.

“He doesn’t blame you; it was an honest mistake,” Papyrus says kindly.

“You don’t understand, _I’m_ the true monster; I hurt everyone who tries to help me.” My voice begins to crack without my permission, tears threatening to make an appearance.

“We all know you’re not a monster; you’re a human,” Papyrus says, not understanding the connotation of what his kind is called. Frustration claws through me, begging me to shove the boys out of the way to escape this corner.

“Look, whatever you think you are, you’re _not_. You’re a good person,” Sans says cautiously.

“You don’t what I’ve done, what’s led me here.”

“That doesn’t matter, and even if you want it to, then you deserve a second chance. It’ll be okay,” Papyrus says encouragingly.

His last word snaps any wisp of control I have, “Oh really, Papyrus? Do you think _murder_ is okay? Do you think running from consequences like a pathetic coward is okay? Do you _honestly_ think that letting four SOULs die without doing anything to prevent it is okay!? Because if _that’s_ the case, then I guess I really could believe that I’m a good person, but I don’t! You want to know how I _actually_ got down here? I willingly jumped into the mountain, hoping the fall would kill me! But how lucky, how _beautifully fortunate_ of me to survive! I don’t deserve to still be breathing. I don’t deserve Asgore’s kindness, and I definitely don’t deserve your encouragement. So please, just leave me alone. I can’t make up for what I’ve done. Every time I think I can find a new place in this world, I rip it away from myself with the reminder that I am _worthless_ . I am _dangerous_ . And above all, I am _not worthy_ of anyone’s love!”

I can’t see them; I can’t see anything as the tears pour down my face. I know I’m shaking, and guilt immediately chokes me for yelling at them. I collapse onto my knees, wanting to curl up in the corner and hide for all eternity.

Now they both finally see what I am. They finally understand what a miserable shred of a living being the little Perseverant is. They’ll probably want to convince Asgore to kick me out, which I’m sure won’t take much effort considering he’s already seen how untrustworthy I am. I’ll have nowhere to go, but maybe that will give me the perfect opportunity to receive the death I deserve.

I hear the boys move, and I expect their footsteps to retreat. But instead, they come closer. I’m about to protest when I feel arms wrap around my shoulders. My eyes open, seeing the blur of Papyrus’ orange and blue sweater on my left and Sans’ green and purple on the right.

Why are they comforting me? I just told them I’m a _murderer_ , no one cares about murderers, they’re people who should be hated. The thought makes the pain of their affection even worse.

“Guess what else you are? You’re the person who patiently taught us how to speak a different language. You’re the person who’s always willing to spend time with us. _You_ are the person who never asks for anything and accepts us for who we are. I’d say that’s someone who deserves to be cared about,” Sans says softly.

“And you’re always encouraging us; I think that’s enough for us to encourage you. What you’ve done has nothing to do with that,” Papyrus says.

I don’t know what to say, so I hug them back, the only thank you I can give them.

“You deserve someone better than me,” I say in a scratchy voice.

“We don’t want whoever you’d consider ‘better,’ we want _you_ ,” Sans says.

I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the remaining tears fall. “I’m sorry I yelled at you two.”

“We get it, sometimes that’s the only way you can express your pain,” Sans says like he’s done it himself. Has he?

I finally let go of them and lean back, wiping the tears from my cheeks and rubbing my eyes. I never wanted them to see me like this, at my worst, but maybe it was bound to happen.

“But you _do_ see that I’m not a good person, right?” I say, hoping they at least understand that they shouldn’t treat me as great as they used to.

“I think everyone can be a good person, if they try,” Papyrus says.

“And you have certainly been trying, which means you’re better than you think you are,” Sans says.

 I can only stare at them, dumbfounded. How can they be so accepting of me? What do they see that makes them _care_ so much? I don’t think I’ll ever understand.

***

We spend the rest of the day transitioning between tossing the frisbee and working on the New Home puzzle. The boys keep up a steady conversation with me, but it’s about anything except what happened earlier. I notice they’re insistent that we do activities together, as if I’ll disappear if they leave me alone. I’m not bothered by it; in fact their presences make me feel better. They’re reminders of what’s good in this world: people who forgive. They may not know the details, but if calling myself a murderer doesn’t scare them away, I don’t think anything will.

We don’t see Asgore until dinnertime, and even though he seems tired, he’s in good spirits. Before I can even apologize a third time, he tells me that I didn’t do anything wrong.

“Accidents happen all the time when people spar, and when the student surprises the teacher, that shows they’ve learned,” he says.

I wouldn’t dispute that claim if it weren’t for the fact that it was only our first offense practice, but I decide to keep my mouth shut. If he’s so insistent that I did nothing wrong, then I won’t fight to make sure he remembers my mistake.

Mid-way through dinner, Asgore announces that we’re going to take a tour of Waterfall tomorrow, with a possible chance of seeing Snowdin too. A ripple of excitement runs through me at seeing the two places I’ve wanted to visit ever since I saw them on my calendar. They’ll definitely be a nice change of scenery.

After dinner, Papyrus volunteers to wash the dishes, giving Asgore the opportunity to disappear once again to work. The boys seem to communicate some sort of signal before Sans asks me to walk with him to the Throne Room.

“What was that?” I ask him when we’re at the bottom of the steps.

“Papyrus wanted me to talk with you alone. He thinks I have a better understanding, since I saw how you were that one night. He wants to help you too, but he’s not sure if he could say the right things. Which, I think he could, but you know how he is; sometimes optimism isn’t the most helpful method. So he was willing to give us time to talk instead, that’s his way of helping.”

“Oh, I’m fine, really,” I lie in what is probably the least convincing tone he’s ever heard.

“Yeah, I know you’ll never stop saying that, but we all know it isn’t true. And maybe you’ll never be fine, but do you think you could just tell me more? About what happened?”

His tone is apprehensive, as if I’ll have another outburst at his simple question. I sigh, beginning to feel cornered again. So I keep silent, chewing on my lip to distract myself.

We reach the bridge when he speaks again. “You said that you’re the real monster. What do you mean?”

I laugh a little, recognizing what he’s trying to do. “You think you can get me talking by starting out with something simple that’ll lead to what you want to know.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, but have you ever wondered why I probably don’t want to talk about it?”

“You seemed eager to let us know what you think of yourself, and you used your past to paint yourself in a negative light. Why can’t you just tell me? I thought we agreed to be honest with each other.”

“Oh, don’t you dare use that. Honesty and withholding information are two different things.”

“And yet, one does a lot more damage than the other.”

He raises an eye socket and I stop, fury working its way to the surface. I cross my arms to compose myself, digging my stubby fingernails into my skin. I wish they were sharper.

“On the Surface, the term ‘monster’ means a horrifying creature that has done unspeakable things to hurt others, usually for its own gain.  Monsters are considered to be unnatural, ugly, imaginary things that are lost to legends. I bet the War’s to blame, but today, humans think of a detestable, terrifying creature when someone says ‘monster.’ Now I don’t think any of you fit that description, but I do believe that it’s a perfect one for me.”

I walk past him, almost hoping he won’t try to catch up.

“So you murdered for your own gain?” Sans asks. I stop, my blood freezing at the memory. “Cuz I don’t think that’s you.”

He approaches me and I bite my lip, knowing what I’ll be forced to admit.

“Who was it?” he asks, not a speck of judgement in his eyes.

I stare at the ground. “You’ll never look at me the same way again,” I whisper.

“I doubt that,” he says with a slight laugh, trying to play it off like a joke.

My eyes snap up to his, and I’m not sure if he sees a glare or a vacant gaze.

Out here, on the bridge, I feel vulnerable. It’s as if all the monsters in the city can hear me, and they’re ready to judge me for the crimes I will confess.

I walk past him without a word, not stopping until I reach the center of the Judgement Hall. The golden light is so deceivingly optimistic, it sickens me. I don’t think I’ll ever see the sun again.

I hear him stop a few paces behind me, waiting. I look down and squeeze my eyes shut, knowing I can’t look at anything when I reveal the darkest depth of my soul.

“It was like any other day; my father threatened us in the morning before I left for work, as if we’d forget what kind of consequences he always had planned.” My voice sounds so detached I don’t even recognize it. “Only this time, he told me he had a ‘surprise’ for that night. Neither of us trusted the implication, but it wasn’t like we could do anything about it. After work, I ran home, terrified as always for what he might’ve done to my sister without me there to protect her. This time, the unbelievable was waiting for me when I entered my room.” My body is so tense I can only feel my heart increasing its pulses. “He was using magic, something I had always believed wasn’t real. A green heart floated just above his palm, my sister’s SOUL. I don’t know what kind of agony he had put her through or for how long he did it. He laughed at our helplessness, and easily took hold of my SOUL. He gave my sister’s back to her, but it didn’t matter. Controlling me, he forced me to grab a gun… and made me shoot her in the head.”

Silence resounds through the Hall, but I curl into myself even more, as if the whole world is listening to my confession. Just saying I’m a murderer is one thing, but actually _explaining_ what I did is infinitely worse.

“He then gave my SOUL back to me, satisfied with his work. He mused about all the people he would tell, but then he second-guessed his actions when he looked at me. He said having no witnesses was probably better. I don’t know if it was anger or fear, but I grabbed the gun before he could… and willingly shot him in the heart.”

I scoff at myself, so disgusted it’s as if I’m describing a different person. But I’m not... because my actions show all that I am.

“And so... like the _stupid_ , _childish_ coward I was... I ran away. Some authorities chased me, and I came to the logical conclusion to jump into the mountain ‘no traveler returns from.’ Of course, never returning was my intention then, believing death was what I deserved. How lucky that I got months of torture instead, although I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you experienced.”

I finally turn to him, his face expressionless like I expected. “Very pitiful isn’t it? Or maybe pathetic is a better word. All I ever did was try to protect her, but none of it mattered in the end.”

“Was she the reason you have those scars?” he asks quietly.

“She made a mistake, and I volunteered to pay the price. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that every time, and look who wound up dead.”

I shrug, not even tempted to cry. I let all those emotions out when I yelled at them. Now, I just feel drained, only capable of feeling so much before nothing has an affect.

“What was her name?” he simply says.

I lightly scoff at how smoothly he’s brushing away everything I said. Is he just in denial that I’m as horrible as I say I am?

“Mable, and her middle name was Azalea.”

I don’t even remember the last time I said her name, and in all the time that’s passed since, it makes me realize the effect it has. Now that she’s dead, there’s an innocence to her name, painting her in a soft, fragile light. It makes it seem like she was too good for this world, so precious it’s no surprise that her life was so short. That is, if I didn’t know so certainly how premature her death was, how easily it could have been prevented.

“Was that locket hers?” Sans asks.

I don’t even try to fight his questions; it’s not like explaining will do any harm. At this point, I’m so numb I barely comprehend what I’m even saying.

“It was my mother’s, and she gave it to Mable. I took it after she died. There’s a picture in it of my family; it’s the last piece I have of them.”

I hear him take a breath, about to say more when I begin walking back to the house, desperate to hide in the dark. When I pass him he grabs my elbow, stopping me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his expression never being more sincere.

“It wasn’t your fault. If there’s anything I have to teach you other than language, it’s this: put those you love first no matter what. If you do that, then there’s no sacrifice too great and there’s no price too high that isn’t worth saving their lives. Because having just one more day with them makes it all worth it. The only problem is, do they feel the same way about you?”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

I look away, realizing my personal experience is interfering with my advice. “Nothing, it’s just that I’ve seen people who pretend to care, but they only do it to find the right moment to stab you in the back.”

“Who was that?”

“It doesn’t matter, but what does is that my sister did feel the same way about me, and I know your brother feels the same way about you. That’s all.”

I pull my arm out of his grasp and continue walking down the hall of golden light. “Can’t wait to see Waterfall and Snowdin, I’ve heard they’re gorgeous,” I say with forced enthusiasm.

“Yeah, can’t wait,” he echoes as I leave him behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Monsters are weird. Even though they barely know you... It feels like they all really love you."  
> I like to think that the better monsters get to know someone, the more forgiving they are of that person's mistakes and flaws.
> 
> That being said, "Do you think even the worst person can change...? That everybody can be a good person, if they just try?" is definitely an ideology the boys will take to heart after seeing how much Krista has tried.


	14. Where We Belong

I don’t sleep well at all. The usual routine of disturbing images is replaced with an onslaught of nightmares reflecting my shame, guilt, and fear. I wake up six times yet surprisingly don’t find any signs of unintentional self-harm. I think the boys understand that I want to be alone since they never approach my door. That or maybe I’m getting better at hiding my panic.

Before the lights have even brightened, I’m ready to go for the day, wearing a cyan and dark blue sweater. I sit at the table, trying to soothe a pounding headache when the boys’ door opens and Sans steps into the hallway.

I feel bad about our last conversation, but I’m not sure what to say to make up for it. At least he knows what happened now; what he wants to do with that information, I don’t know.

“Rough night?” he asks when he reaches the table.

“I assume I was annoying again?” I ask dryly.

“Not annoying, I understand why you felt that way. All those horrible things that happened made a reappearance, and it was unfair of me to force you to relive them.”

“It’s not the first time that’s happened,” I respond, pressing my palms against my eyes and rubbing my hairline. My eyes are unbearably heavy, but I don’t want to go back to sleep in fear of being dragged back into the hell of self-hatred.

I hear Sans walk into the kitchen, and I tune him out to narrow my focus on massaging my head, finding only the slightest hints of relief.

I jump when he places two glasses on the table with loud _clinks_.

“Ow,” I say, only slightly serious as I squint at him.

“If you’re going to travel with us to Waterfall and Snowdin today, then you need to be alert if you want to appreciate the sceneries. Here.”

He shoves a glass of orange juice towards me, and I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think this will help my headache.”

“You’re gonna drink it anyway cuz I read hydration helps with that.”

“Then why didn’t you give me water?”

“The sugars will help you wake up,” he says with a wink. His emphasis on returning to our normal, casual conversations makes me feel a little better.

“Ha-ha, _no_. Does Asgore have any baby aspirin?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s medication, but since it takes its sweet time to take effect, I’ve never really cared to use it anyway.”

“Then why are you rejecting my suggestion of orange juice?” he asks in mock offense.

I realize I’ve lost this argument and grab the closest glass, squinting at him with fake anger.

“Congratulations Comic Sans, you’ve just either taken one step closer to the medical field or the retail business.”

“I’m honored; if I can convince you, I think I’ll be able to convince anybody.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going to start competing with your brother to prove how great each of you are. You don’t have to try to make someone see it, and trust me, I can see it.”

His smile drops a little, “What do you mean?”

I take a sip of orange juice. “I mean you both are great in your own ways, and sometimes it’s better to let other people see it rather than try really hard to convince them.”

“Is that what you’ve been trying to do?”

I almost choke and shove the glass a foot away. “Not exactly, but I’m definitely amazed that either of you can still look at me after yesterday.”

His face darkens and I pretend not to notice, pulling the glass back to me. I don’t want to dwell on what happened yesterday. They can either take or leave me, and I’m still not a hundred percent sure which option they chose.

He’s silent for a few moments before saying, “You said your sister had a middle name, what does that signify?”

“Well where I come from, it’s common to have three individual names that make a full one. The first name is what you usually respond to, like how mine is Krista. The middle name is used less, but it’s another way to identify yourself. The last name is what you inherit from your parents, defining the family you come from.”

“So what’s your middle name?”

I smile, “You know, I spent so long wishing I knew your names, I think you can wait.”

“Is this punishment for making you talk last night? Cuz I really am sorry about that, I thought it’d help.”

“It’s not that, I just… feel like I’ve revealed too much at once. I know it doesn’t matter, but I kinda want to keep that to myself a little longer.”

He leans back in his seat, as if he’s keeping secrets he doesn’t want to reveal too, “I get it. Besides, I guess Papyrus and I technically don’t have middle names if we’re only named after fonts.”

“That seems like the case for him, but I guess you could consider ‘Comic’ to be your first name if you really wanted.”

“Sure, but I like going by Sans; I think it’s easier to say.”

“Either way, it’s unique.”

“So then, do we have a last name? It starts with a ‘G’ doesn’t it?”

My throat tightens; does he really want to be associated with that name? I guess he at least has the right to remember it. “It’s Gaster.”

His eyes narrow in disgust, “Can I take on a different last name?”

“Well, since there’s no actual documentation, you can make it whatever you want. I would consult Papyrus first though.”

He smiles, “Can you tell me your last name?”

I roll my eyes in mock annoyance. “Fine, but I didn’t earn it in a traditional sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually, the woman takes on the man’s last name when they’re married, but my father wanted my mother’s last name. I think it was just so he could take a step away from his own family, since they never approved of her. So my mother’s last name that became the family’s, is Meadows.”

“‘Meadows’ like those huge grass fields on the Surface?”

“Yep.”

His smile widens, “I might have to steal that.”

“There are a lot of people with the same last names who aren’t related; I guess I will allow it,” I exaggerate a sigh.

“Aww, you wouldn’t want to be considered my sister?”

My eyes snap back to his smirking face at that last word: _sister_. “You would want to consider me as a sibling?”

He shrugs, “Why not? I’ve known you almost as long as I’ve known Papyrus, and I care about you the same way I care about him. Besides, wouldn’t it be nice to be part of a family? Even if we are so different?”

I’m not sure how to respond; his invitation is so jarring I almost want him to say it again. The best I can do is say, “I think you should consult Papyrus first.”

He laughs, “Will do, but I think we both know what he’ll say.”

As if he heard us, Papyrus steps out of their room, seemingly ready to conquer the world. He greets us and drops into the seat next to Sans as if it’s another normal day. His brother quickly explains the last name concept with the suggestion of using mine.

Papyrus’ face brightens, “Of course! It’s perfect! We’ll be a trio of siblings with nothing in the world to stop us!”

I don’t know why his reaction surprises me so much, considering there are very few things that he doesn’t like. Maybe it’s simply because of how willing they are to accept me after everything they’ve learned.

“Are you sure?” I ask, searching for traces of hesitation in either of them.

“Absolutely! You couldn’t convince me to say ‘no’ even if you tried!” Papyrus says triumphantly.

I guess there’s no changing their minds, but I don’t think I want to anyway.

Asgore’s door opens at the end of the hallway, and he steps out in his usual purple cape and dark gray armor. Ready to go, too.

“Hey Asgore, what’s your last name?” Sans asks.

“Huh? Oh, mine is Dreemurr,” the king replies, approaching us. “What brought that up?”

“Krista was just telling me about how people can have multiple names, and since Papyrus and I technically don’t have last names, I figured we could use hers.”

“Uh, that’s not exactly how it works, but I guess you can if you want to. What’s the name?”

“Meadows,” I say.

“Huh,” he lightly laughs, “I knew a family that had that name many, many years ago.”

“My mom told me her family had always been there, even before the War.”

He looks at me as if he’s seen a ghost, probably making a connection to a long buried memory.

“Well... let’s say we get some breakfast and then head out?” the king finally says, breaking himself out of whatever memory that resurfaced.

“Ooo! Can I help make pancakes?” Papyrus asks.

“Sure,” the king says, still slightly dazed.

***

We take the same elevator Asgore and I took to get to the lab, ending up in the same area of Hotland as before. This time however, we continue to walk straight, down to a dark blue area with steps that lead to a river. A small boat sits in the water, calmly bobbing up and down despite the fast-moving current. As far as I can see, the boat isn’t tied to the land in any way. The sight of the boat’s captain erases any questions that come to my mind.

The person is nothing more than a cloaked figure, the fabric a similar dark blue to the walls. There’s no face hidden within the hood, just a black abyss. An uneasiness takes hold in me, every instinct wishing to bolt away from the mysterious figure.

“Howdy River Person,” Asgore cheerfully says to the figure, as if it doesn’t look like Death itself.

“Hello Your Majesty, care for a ride?” the Person says just as brightly.

Its voice is clear and welcoming, with a pitch that doesn’t give it any distinct identification as a male or female. Everything about it seems completely neutral, but neutral with a positive outlook on life.

“We would, to Waterfall please,” the king replies.

“Any preference for where you’d like to stop?”

“You know the hidden dock that is not allowed for casual travelers? I’d like us to go to that one,” the king says.

“Hop on in,” the Person says with a nod.

The boys let me go first, and I make sure to sit as far away from the Person as possible. They may _seem_ nice, but I’m not inclined to trust someone so mysterious so quickly. Unfortunately, sitting on the bow of the boat forces me to face the Person on the opposite end. I can’t tell if its eyes are watching me, but it _feels_ like they are; I keep my own on the water rushing by. It’s the only sound for a few minutes as we pass blue walls on the left. On the right, the river stretches for about half a mile before reaching raised walls with waterfalls spilling over the sides. The ceiling sparkles brighter than I’ve ever seen it, with cyan, white, blue, and purple stones glittering like stars.

“Tra la la. The water is very wet today,” the Person says out of nowhere.

My eyes snap to them, and I’m suddenly afraid for letting my guard down. But I should be safe, shouldn’t I? Asgore seems to trust them; that _should_ be good enough for me. But I know it isn’t.

We finally stop at a very narrow wooden dock that takes a sharp right turn to a much larger one. It’s surrounded by cattails that appear to be blue in the shadows of the tall rock structure on the land the dock connects to.

Since the others are closest to the dock, all of them get off the boat before me, leaving me to be the last one on it. They walk towards what appear to be glyphs on the wall the larger dock is built against.

“‘The War of Humans and Monsters,” Papyrus reads off the first glyph.

I step off the boat to see what they’re looking at when the Person grabs my wrist, their hand hidden under the folds of their cloak. My blood turns cold at how tight their grip is, and I turn to stare into that black abyss.

“Tra la la,” they whisper. “The Angel is coming… or are they already here?”

“You tell me,” I whisper back, and I swear, _I swear_ , I see a smile glint within that hood.

“We will soon find out,” the Person says, letting go and heading back down the river.

“‘If a monster defeats a human, they can take its SOUL,’” Papyrus continues to read as I catch up to them. They’re almost on the opposite side of the dock by now.

“‘A monster with a human SOUL… a horrible beast with unfathomable power,’” Sans reads, finishing the glyph.

The final glyph portrays an image of a creature I’m not even sure how to begin to describe. Its fangs seem to drip with poison. Its talons look to be as sharp as jagged metal. Its face is nothing like any human or monster I’ve ever seen or could imagine. The longer I stare at the image, the more it unsettles me.

“That is a rough depiction of what happened when a monster once absorbed a human’s SOUL. I never saw it with my own eyes, but I met a few survivors who witnessed its power. SOULs are very dangerous entities to tamper with.”

We turn to Asgore and it seems like he wants to keep his distance from the image, as if he knows it all too well.

“Anyway, shall we continue?” he motions to the rock structure a few feet to his right, leading into a new room. We leave the horrifying image behind and walk down a short passage into the next room where I hear whispers.

The narrow room stretches further to our right than left, with nothing but a telescope, five cyan flowers, and a single glyph. The whispers seem to jumble together, but when I step closer to a lone flower on the left, a voice becomes distinct.

“I’m gonna wish that a real star will be named after you, sis… don’t laugh, you should be honored!” the voice says, it sounds like a kid’s.

“We call them Echo Flowers; they repeat the last sounds they hear over and over until they hear something new. They usually pick up voices better than white noise, but if you’re quiet enough for a long time, they’ll eventually amplify the sounds of the waterfalls,” Asgore tells us.

“What’s this?” Sans asks, gesturing to the telescope.

Asgore explains what it is while I take a peek through it, instantly dazzled by the sparkling lights.

I never had a chance to truly stargaze on the Surface. The city’s artificial lights drowned out almost every constellation except for maybe the Big Dipper or Orion. But the little that I could see always filled me with wonder. I’ll never understand why dots of light millions of miles away are so fascinating, but I’ll never stop wishing that I could see more of them.

“A loving nickname that they’ve adopted is ‘Ceiling Stars.’ They’re common throughout the entire Underground, but they’re mostly controlled by magic in other areas. Here, they’re just stones reflecting the water and bioluminescence in Waterfall, which is why some argue they’re most beautiful to look at in this area of the Underground.”  

I offer the telescope to the boys, and Sans seems even more eager than Papyrus to take a look at the closest they’ll ever get to seeing stars.

I walk to the other end of the room to read the single glyph, a little disturbed to hear a couple of the Echo Flowers repeating parts of what Asgore just said. The flower closest to the glyph was too far to pick up what he said and seems to be on its own quest to repeat whoever spoke before us.

“You see little sis, a long, long time ago, like a _really_ long time ago, monsters would whisper their wishes to the stars in the sky. If you hoped with all your heart, your wish would come true. Even though we only have these stones, they’re worth wishing to, also.”

I look up at the glyph and it simply reads, “ _Wishing Room_.”

“Thousands of people wishing together can’t be wrong, right?” Asgore says next to me. I raise an eyebrow up at him and he smirks a bit, “As long as they keep believing that, monsters will never lose hope.”

“But do _you_ believe it?” I ask.

“I do,” he says wholeheartedly, “We will all see the stars again.”

“I’m not sure if I’ll live to see that,” I say.

“You will, I promise.”

I’m not sure how he thinks he can fulfill that promise, but it’s not worth asking. He could simply be acting in case someone hears his words when the flowers repeat them.

The next room is cut in half by a small river, beginning with a waterfall flowing down the north wall. Four pink water lilies float where the two pieces of land are closest, as if they’re meant to be used as a bridge. The boys cross the makeshift bridge as if it’s made of sturdy wood. I gingerly step on the first lily to see that it’s as trustworthy as solid land. What a wonder this strange, strange Underground magic is, or do they somehow have a different set of physics from what I’m familiar with? Maybe I should just accept more and question less magic-wise; it’d probably make life a bit easier.

We only walk for a short distance before crossing an actual wooden bridge to the next area. As far as I can see, it’s a straight hallway. Blue, pink, and purple gems stick out from the walls, sparkling with light, but it’s much dimmer than the Ceiling Stars. We pass over another lily bridge and even have to trudge through some tall grass.

The quietness of this place intrigues me. It’s not like the silence of the lab since there’s still noise with the rushing waterfalls and echoes of drops on rock. But the lack of inhabitants is a little spooky.

“I guess there aren’t a lot of monsters who live here?” I ask Asgore.

“There are some, but not many of them are early risers. I thought it’d be better for you three to see Waterfall in its glory without monsters stopping us every few seconds like they were in the City.”

“I like meeting people, they wouldn’t have bothered me,” Papyrus says.

“I don’t doubt that, but it saves time for us to tour Snowdin,” Asgore replies.

Another waterfall appears where unfortunately, there’s no lily bridge and we have to wade through a pool of water that reaches up to my knees. The waterfall’s mist clings to my clothes and skin as it drifts towards me. Of course, the water is _freezing_ in comparison to the fairly warm air.

I frown at my soaked shoes when I reach the other side, a little jealous that the boys are wearing rubber boots.

When we’re a decent distance away from the fall, I notice that the dark blueish-purple path of Waterfall is cut off in the distance, fading into a blurring white.

“What is that?” Papyrus asks as we approach the blur.

With every step it feels like the temperature drops a few degrees, and I realize what I’m looking at.

“It’s snow,” I say, a bit dazed.

Asgore further explains the logistics of precipitation as I stare at the countless white crystals. When was the last time I saw snow? January? It would’ve been early in the month when we only got about an inch. But here, this looks like a _blizzard_.

“It’s an endless blizzard, separating Snowdin from Waterfall; it creates a barrier of temperature between them so Snowdin never gets warmer from Waterfall and Waterfall never gets too hot from Hotland. Now it may be disorienting to travel through, but just keep walking straight and you’ll reach the other side. I’ll walk behind you so you won’t get lost,” Asgore says.

For once, I take the lead, strangely eager to feel the bite of chill air. After the muggy warmth of Waterfall, I want the clean sharpness of winter winds. I’ll just have to suffer through the fact that they’ll make my clothes a hundred times colder than they already are.

The boys seem cautious, but I plunge into the blizzard with smooth strides. I was always meant for the cold, and whether or not I welcome it, it will always find me. The snowflakes whip through the air, and I have to shut my eyes a few times from the blinding brightness. I keep my steps purposeful, as if I know exactly where I’m going.

I don’t know how long it takes; it might only be thirty seconds, but pushing past winds and trudging through what’s at least a foot of snow feels like it takes thirty minutes. When I finally emerge from the blizzard, I’m greeted by an open path lined with pine trees on either side. A light snow falls from above, but it’s gentle and barely noticeable in comparison to what I just walked through. It’s only now that it feels like someone’s pulling on my hair. I turn around to see Sans smirking with the ends of my hair bundled in his fist. Papyrus has a hand on his shoulder behind him, and I squint at them with fake annoyance.

“Freeloaders,” I say, pulling my hair out of Sans’ grasp.

“Hey, I didn’t know what that would be like, and since you took the lead, I didn’t want to get lost,” he says innocently.

“And I didn’t want the both of you to get lost without me so I followed,” Papyrus says.  

“Good excuses, now that you know it’s literally a straight-shot, I can’t wait to see what your reasons will be next time.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll keep ‘em coming,” Sans says.

I roll my eyes and Asgore steps out of the blizzard, seemingly proud that none of us got lost.

“Alright, little ones. Welcome to Snowdin Town!” Asgore says, taking the lead.

We only walk a short distance before Papyrus stops dead in his tracks, staring at a dark house we passed that I didn’t care to look at.

“Sans… what’s that word for feeling like you’re in a situation that you’ve never actually experienced?” he asks.

“Uh, I think it’s deja vu,” Sans says.

“Well then I am really feeling deja vu right now.”

“What do you mean?” Asgore asks before Papyrus takes off in a sprint towards the front of the house.

“Sans, this is it! This is our house!” Papyrus exclaims over his shoulder as he stands in front of the three steps leading up to the door.

“It’s... ours?” Sans says, not seeming to believe his brother’s claim.

Papyrus races up the steps and rattles the doorknob. “We need to get inside! It’s _ours_!”

“Well, it’s been abandoned for as long as I can remember. I don’t know if-” Asgore pulls a blue key out of his pocket and he stares at it. “How did I-”

Sans grabs the key and the boys unlock the door and enter the house before I can even blink.

“What caused that?” Asgore asks me.

I shrug, “Instinct? The hope of finding a home of their own?”

“Do you really think they’ve wanted to live on their own this whole time?”

I put a hand on his arm, suddenly wishing I hadn’t said that. “No, I just mean that kids eventually seek independence, and maybe seeing an abandoned place gave Papyrus the hope of finding that. You know we all love New Home... but maybe the boys need a change?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Asgore says before entering the house.

I look back up at the building, wondering if it was home to a certain skeleton not too long ago. A house this big wouldn’t just be _abandoned_ for centuries. I guess Papyrus also has some of those future visions. How long ago did he picture this house? In a dream? When they were still in the lab? Is this his sense of finding true freedom?

I walk inside and Papyrus’ voice drifts down from the second level. “Look at this art! Only a skeleton could appreciate such magnificence!”

“Or maybe a dog, they like bones,” Sans says.

“No! This is our home! I’m sure of it!”

“Okay, but then we kinda already live with Asgore so-”

“Children, may I speak with you?” Asgore asks.

The boys hesitantly travel down the steps to the main living room where Asgore stands near the center. I remain a few paces away, unsure whether or not their upcoming conversation includes me.

“I’ve always felt that this day would come eventually, but I honestly didn’t expect it to be as soon as it is,” the king says. “If you truly believe that this house is where you belong, then I won’t argue. I only ask that you wait until tomorrow before moving here; I want to make sure you’ll be prepared enough to live on your own.”

Sans still seems stunned that his brother feels this place is _meant_ for them while Papyrus simply nods, so sure in his resolve that he’s not even considering what he’ll be leaving behind.

“Alright, then I guess we’ll head home so you can prepare for the move, if you both are so sure,” Asgore says.

Sans’ eyes dart to me and I shrug, unsure of where I belong in all this. After all, from what Papyrus has said, this place is meant for the two of them alone. There’s no room for me.

“The three of us,” Sans suddenly says sharply.

“Yes! Krista belongs here, too!” Papyrus exclaims.

I wonder if his future visions didn’t include me because he didn’t know me when he saw them. I bet they’re visions buried so deeply it took seeing the actual house to conjure them. Since it’s only recently that he seems to have truly accepted me, he thought of his brother as the only other person who belonged here. Of course, that’s simply the optimistic outlook as to why he didn’t say I belonged here. The alternative would be my self-esteem issues coming true, that he truly doesn’t accept me because he sees me as I am.

“Do you think so?” Asgore asks me.

When I was finally free from that lab, I had no idea what I would do or how I would survive in the Underground. But instead of making survival plans, I wondered what it would be like for the boys, to transition from such a limited world to experiencing everything at once. Despite all my faults and weaknesses, I have always wished that I could help them, _protect_ them in some way. How can I do that if I stay in New Home? I can’t abandon these boys, not after all we’ve been through together. Maybe I need them just as much as I want to help them.

I don’t want to hurt Asgore’s feelings with the proud confirmation I suddenly feel, so I simply nod instead, hoping he understands that I’m not leaving because of something he’s done.

“Alright then, I guess we’ll head home to begin packing,” the king says, heading for the front door. Despite how much he tries to hide it, I can hear the sadness in his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to think that the River Person's boat changes depending on the number of passengers it has. In this case, it looks more like a traditional wooden boat rather than how it looks in the game.


	15. Forgotten SOULs

Instead of heading back the way we came, we head a little farther down the path before taking a right turn. Asgore walks so fast, I can barely take in the scenery as the boys and I try to keep up. We quickly reach a shoreline where lo and behold, the River Person waits in their boat.

“Tra la la. Back to Hotland?” the Person asks.

The king simply nods in response as we settle into the same spots we had last time. Sitting on the bow is even more of a relief now as I keep my eyes intently focused on the scenery, not daring to even glance at that abyss of the Person’s hood.

The distraction of my freezing legs helps too, since they’re now practically frozen after walking through the blizzard in soaked jeans.

As I watch the water, I realize that we’re traveling _with_ the current, which means we should be continuing farther into Snowdin rather than going back to Hotland. I look back at the Person, and I see that same flash of light within their hood that I saw earlier, probably another sly smile. They might be doing this on purpose, to get a rise out of the only SOUL in the Underground that is so distinctly out of place. But then, wouldn’t Asgore question why we’re going in the wrong direction?

“Tra la la. If it’s hot or cold, you can count on me,” the Person says cheerfully before we’re suddenly in front of the Hotland area a blink of an eye later. Whoa, what? How did they do that? Well, I guess magic is the “duh” answer, but still, it was as if the boat just kept smoothly traveling down the current without any interference.

The others step off the boat, and I warily watch the Person, searching for a face within that darkness. What kind of person owns such a cheerful, musical voice yet wants to remain completely anonymous?

My feet hit dry land without incident, but when I’m only a step away from the boat, their hushed voice stops me.

“Tra la la. Humans, monsters… flowers.”

I look back and raise an eyebrow at the Person. “What about them?”

“Just something to think about. My boat is always free if you ever need a ride. Have a nice day! Tra la la.”

Then they float away on the gentle waters, continuing to hum their three syllable song.

Flowers… flowers? What do they have to do with humans and monsters? Unless… _wait_. How did they know-

“What was that about?” Sans asks.

I jump back a foot as he stands next to me, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

“Whoa! Dude! Maybe give a little warning next time?”

“Sorry, but we were almost to the elevator, and I saw you weren’t following; I got a little nervous.”

“What, that they’d try to kidnap me?”

“You never know,” he shrugs and we begin to head up the stairs. “So what’d they say this time?”

“‘This time?’”

“I saw when they caught your wrist earlier, what’d they say?”

“Something about the Angel coming, but then they questioned if the Angel is already here. Then, just now, they simply said, ‘Humans, monsters… flowers.’”

“‘Flowers?’ What do they have to do with humans and monsters?”

“I have some theories, but I’m not sure if they’re accurate.”

We reach the elevator where Asgore and Papyrus anxiously wait; I can instantly recognize their polar reasons for wanting to get back to New Home as soon as possible.

“Did the Person try to talk your ears off about riddles or teach you their song?” Asgore asks, his cheerfulness so forced I’m tempted to ask him to tone it down.

“It was the riddles about the water, and then they offered me a ride whenever I wanted. Do they ever charge customers?”

“Not often, it’s usually only if a passenger complains about their singing.”

“Well then how do they make a living?” I ask, feeling a sense of dread for the Person’s lack of employment. Money has always made my anxiety spike at the mere mention of it; an old fear of never being able to afford basic needs.

“The Person is a rare exception, one of the few monsters in the Underground that simply exist with no explanation beyond what they allow you to know. The Person doesn’t do any harm, and they provide a helpful method of transportation for local residents. I don’t see any reason to pry.”

Asgore’s dismissal of the Person’s secrets unnerves me. Just _who_ are they? And why do they love cryptic riddles so much? In fact, _how_ do they know such things, like the flower Alphys injected with Determination? That’s what they meant when they said ‘flowers,’ right? That Alphys’ particular one now has a connection to us because of the power she gave it? I’m tempted to go back and interrogate the Person for answers, if only because I’m so sick of hearing nothing but cryptic information.

***

When we get back to the house, Papyrus wastes no time in finding a pair of backpacks for the few things they’ll take to their new home. There isn’t much, just some clothes and maybe a few puzzles. I can’t imagine much more that they’d need to bring when we can get our own stuff in Snowdin. As much as I like the borrowed sweaters and pajamas, it still bothers me that they once belonged to children who have long been dead. Of course, that then begs the question of how we’re going to pay for everything we’ll need. I absolutely hate the idea of asking Asgore for money, but what else can I do?

At dinner, I try to casually bring up the subject, but the king avoids my implication, as if he doesn’t want to accept the reality of tomorrow. Instead, he keeps the conversation on any topic except for the fact that we’re leaving. Afterwards, I retreat to my room, claiming I want to figure out what to pack. But really, I just don’t want to look at him any longer. The more I do, the more obligated I feel to stay.

I understand why Asgore doesn’t want to face the reality; I bet he was really lonely in this silent house before he found us, and now he must return to that silence. The thought makes me wonder if his own home feels like a prison to him, so wrapped up in ghostly memories that can never be chased away. But in the end… I can’t do anything to help him. I’m not Chara, and I’m not the kind of person who brightens a room with only my voice. That’s what Papyrus does. This place would be just as silent with me as it is without. But does that _really_ give me a reason to leave?

No, it doesn’t, but those boys need me more than the king does, and I think it’s something they’ve all recognized by now.

It takes me all of five minutes to pack my duffel bag with everything I had to begin with, along with the brush and hair ties. The only thing I set aside that wasn’t mine before is the lavender and turquoise sweater. I need at least _one_ warm thing before I buy a jacket.

As I’m organizing my wardrobe to look as neat as it was before, I find the pink pajamas and my stomach twists at the sight of the dried blood. I was able to find a new bed sheet hidden behind the piles of cotton pants and switched it out with the original one, hoping if anyone finds it, they’ll simply thing the blood is a stain from age. But the pajamas… I stuff them into the bottom of my bag, figuring I’ll just find some way to get rid of them in Snowdin.

I try to sleep when the hallway lights dim, but I can’t seem to turn my brain off. Too many questions about the future poke and prod their ways through my mind, the topics ranging from anything about Snowdin to the River Person’s words.

What are the monsters in Snowdin like? Will they be friendly? Hostile? What will they think of three strangers just suddenly moving into an abandoned house? Will I have to keep track of certain payments for the house? How am I going to get a job? Will any of the monsters even know that I’m human? Will any of them even care?

_Why did the River Person ask if the Angel was already here?_

I jump out of bed and shove my shoes on, frustrated with my mind that was so tired this morning but now has no problem with remaining as active as possible.

I decide to head to the Throne Room to enjoy the golden flowers one last time before I subject myself to living in an eternal winter. Even though I can obviously visit whenever I want, it doesn’t feel right to be here anymore. Maybe it’s Papyrus’ bias rubbing off on me, but now that I’ve seen how far their true home is, it feels… wrong to remain this close to what was once our prison.

The Judgement Hall is as bright as ever when I reach it, but it also feels wrong to me, knowing it will be a place of suffering sometime in the future. I’m glad Sans can’t exactly tell what happens or when, it makes the truth easier to ignore.

When I reach the hallway with the entrance to the Throne Room, I notice there’s another opening at the end of the right wall. I’m not surprised that I didn’t see it before; Sans really was right when he called me unobservant. But to be fair to myself, this is the first time that I’m truly _looking_ at this place, giving it a final goodbye. What’s the harm in seeing where this room leads?

When I face the entrance, I see a long hallway before it drops off, presumably to a flight of stairs. It’s a decent hike down before I reach another room and walk straight into it. Seriously, if Asgore was trying to hide anything, he would’ve put doors in these entrances. The lack of them tells me he’s fine with anyone waltzing in to discover what lies within the rooms.

The room is pretty narrow, and it stretches to my left, but its contents immediately make me question why Asgore doesn’t lock anything up.

Seven coffins lie before me in a neat row, each one with a colored heart on it. The first one has a red heart, and when I step closer, the name _“Chara”_ is engraved on it. But…. didn’t Asriel take her body to the Surface? Or is this coffin simply a memorial for her? I’m not brave enough to open it to find out.

The next coffin has an orange heart, with the date _Dec. 6, 1127_ on it. While Chara didn’t have a death date, this human has no name. Just a SOUL forever lost to time. I send out a small sense of magic in search of the SOULs. These would be the originals of each color wouldn’t they? But I can’t find any traces of them. I guess they are the only items Asgore has actually taken the care to hide.

My eyes scan the coffins as I slowly walk past each one, noting the colors and dates. I quickly realize they’re in ascending order, from the oldest SOUL acquired to the most recent.

The next SOUL is yellow, reminding me of when Justin said he saw an orange SOUL and a yellow one when he faced Asgore at the Barrier. The thought is so jarring to me, to remember that every human in this room had died because of him. Well, except for Chara, but I doubt her body ever entered this room. The year is 1148 for the Justice SOUL.

Next is green, _Feb. 12, 1191_. It tells me that Justin must have arrived here within those forty-three years, and then he was tortured for almost nine centuries.

Next is cyan, _June 8, 1264_ . Then blue, _Oct. 30, 1335_ . Finally, purple, _April 24, 1603_. And since then there has never been another, until me. I don’t know which is more surprising: the fact that a Determination hasn’t fallen in almost a thousand years, or the fact that it’s taken this long for a second Perseverant to fall.

It seems that there were more humans inclined to jump back then, considering there are three from within the same century. I guess it makes sense, the stories were younger, and more people believed the monsters were real. Did those humans want to negotiate with the monsters? Or simply tell them they believed they didn’t deserve the fate the wizards forced upon them?

I keep staring at the purple heart, knowing if it wasn’t for whoever this person was, _my_ body would be in this coffin right now.

_Why did you jump? Why did any of you jump? Would you have changed your minds if you knew what would happen? Or were you hoping for it all along?_

And these are just the originals. How many more SOULs have died down here at the hands of the monsters? How many more will die before a Determination falls? Which begs the question… _should_ monsters return to the Surface?

“Ah, I see you’ve found one of my greatest regrets,” Asgore says.

I jump back from the coffin and see him near the entrance, shadows dark under his eyes.

“I’d think you’d take more precautions in hiding them if you truly regretted what you’ve done,” I say, my voice not sounding like my own.

“True, I could have sealed this room with a locked door, but then it’d be an excuse for me to not force myself to come down here.”

“You’re fine with anyone seeing these?”

“Not entirely, so I placed a spell on the entrance to warn me if anyone ever enters. I’ve done the same for the Barrier room. It gives me a chance to offer an explanation.”

“I think it’s clear what these are; I only wish I knew exactly _who_ are in them. Chara’s doesn’t count since it’s empty, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he sighs, “Asriel left her on the Surface, but we wanted to keep a remembrance for her in a traditional human way.”

“I’d say a picture’s more comforting than a coffin, but hey, you’ve got a nice, complete collection because of it. And since her coffin is empty, you can just stick the next Determination in it.”

“Krista,” he sighs, sensing my growing anger.

“Why didn’t you learn their names? Was it just too painful? Did you just _have_ to kill them on the spot before even considering what they may have been through? And then you don’t even show mercy to the repeats, no, you subject them to something worse than death. And all for what? ‘Saving monsterkind?’ ‘Progress towards destroying the Barrier?’ You did it because people ‘needed you to?’ You know I really do hope a Determination falls within my lifetime because I want to see what sort of justice these SOULs will receive then for all their suffering. None of the repeats had a chance to receive it. I wish I could name them all but I can’t, so here are four names for you to remember. Justin. Blue. Basil. Patience. And those aren’t even their real names, as much as I wish they were. So tell me, _Your Majesty_ , were you still consumed with that blind rage in the 1200s? The 1300s? The 1600s? How about now? Will the Determination die the same way they did?”

He stares at the ground, ashamed. But I take no joy in seeing him like this because every single question I’ve asked is rhetorical. He will always do what he “has to do,” and that is to put his people above humans. Even if the Barrier is broken, we will never be equals. It will always be them and us, forever divided by the lines that were drawn to remind us of our differences.

“I wanted to use the Bravery SOUL to cross the Barrier in search of the six others, but my better judgement held me back. It was too risky, and I knew some people thought that was the better choice, but they didn’t consider all the possibilities.”

“No, not like _you_ did with your anger keeping your head clear,” I say in disgust.  It makes me think of when I called Gaster a coward for being the only surviving skeleton from the War. Then, I was doing it out of spite, but everything he did after the War wasn’t _exactly_ cowardly. I wonder if he was one of the people who suggested using the Bravery SOUL to search on the Surface. If he did, then that makes Asgore more of a coward than him. He wasn’t willing to risk even _one_ person? Just to see if they could leave the Underground far sooner than if they waited? There _must_ have been willing volunteers.

Does the logic make sense? Sure. But look at how many humans died and suffered in that time without benefitting anyone. Of course, what am I thinking? This is a king who doesn’t care about the loss of human lives.

“I don’t need to explain my choices to you,” he suddenly snaps. The anger in his voice is so unlike him, it almost scares me, enough to convince me to back off. What happened has happened, and absolutely nothing will change.

“No, you don’t. Because what would a child like me understand about death? About the burden of making sacrifices? Surely, if I really thought about it, _of course_ killing the first of each trait and then torturing the repeats makes sense.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about the repeat traits,” he says suspiciously. “Care to explain?”

I bite down on the inside of my lip so hard I taste blood, but I don't care. I always back myself into a corner when I let my emotions take over; it’s what I get for revealing too much.

“I found some SOULs in Alphys’ lab when you told me to leave. They had some pretty interesting stories about what the scientists had done to them over the centuries.”

He sighs and rubs his forehead. “Yes, it is true that many monsters have not been the kindest to human travelers, and the actions of the scientists are partially my fault. However, you have to understand how humans acted towards us during the War. Those of us who are still around from that era, we’re permanently damaged by what happened.”

“And that makes your actions completely justifiable,” I say, the sarcasm dripping from my tone. “When every human that fell down here was nowhere close to being alive during that time.”

“Do you believe you are entirely innocent in all that you’ve done, Krista?” his question completely throws me off. “Sure, you have not committed atrocities as horrific as I have, but can you honestly tell me there is nothing you regret? Have you never done anything for the sake of someone else, even though you knew you would regret your actions?”

I can feel the blood drain from my face as dozens of incidents resurface in my mind. There’s too many I can name, that I regret or mourn or hate myself for.

I look down at the Perseverant’s coffin, once again wondering if I belong in it.

“No,” I simply say, feeling childish for judging him.

He sighs, “Should I pay for what I’ve done? Yes. But should my actions also be worth it in the end? Yes, because it will give all the suffering meaning, for both monsters and humans.”

I hear the king approach me, and he stops in front of the Integrity’s coffin. I look up at his towering form, feeling so small and insignificant. This is a leader of thousands who has ruled for over a millennium. He’s lived my pitiful fifteen years hundreds of times over. Who am I to say anything against him? There’s nothing significant about me that he hasn’t seen before.

“I understand why you feel this way; it’s more death and pain than anyone your age should know about,” he says.

“I would’ve known eventually, a girl’s gotta grow up at some point,” I shrug.

“But your experiences have forced you to grow up too fast, enough that you’re wise enough to recognize this old fool’s mistakes. But because of that, I’m worried you’ll get lost in the darkness of reality. So when you’re out there, living on your own, please try to remember the bright things in life. You have a good heart, and the very last thing I would want is for you to lose your way.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I see a flicker of sadness in his eyes, no doubt he can feel my scars under the thin fabric of my T-shirt.

“The boys are good enough reminders of what is right with this world,” I say, hoping it’s enough to convince him.

Asgore smiles sadly and drops his hand, taking a step back. “They are good reminders, but look for the kindness in others too, and the bits of beauty the Underground offers. I know misery is easier to find, but that’s what makes the good all the more meaningful.”

I lower my eyes to the ground, ashamed of myself once again. “I’m sorry that I keep messing up. It seems that every time we’ve reached some sort of understanding, I end up insulting or hurting you when you’ve been nothing but kind.”

A ghost of a laugh escapes him before he says, “Trust me dear, Chara struggled just as much, if not, worse than you have. And even though I’ll never know all the details, I understand enough to know that you’re carrying immense amounts of pain. And sometimes, the only way to release that pain is to direct it at something that reminds you of it. So _I’m_ the one who should be sorry, for snapping at you and for not doing better to help you heal. I feel guilty for admitting it, but I’m glad you’re going with the boys. You’ll need them just as much as they’ll need you, and in the end, I’ll always be here to do my best to help whenever I can.”

I’m not sure what to say, but he turns to leave before I have a chance to think of something, disappearing up the stairwell.

I wait in the silence of the tomb for a few minutes, my eyes grazing over the coffins. Nothing can be done for those humans; the mistakes have been made and the SOULs are sealed away to wait for the Determination. Even though I’m afraid of what may happen, the best way to bring them any kind of peace is to fulfill what they’ve been waiting for: destroying the Barrier. And whether our two races live in harmony or another War occurs, at least they’ll finally be laid to rest.

As much as those humans and almost any human that has ever lived would despise the idea, I think I want to see the day when there is peace between humans and monsters. It’s the only ending that will make everything worth it. And while I’ve questioned the idea too, I think it could happen, if we all try. Isn’t that what the boys think? That we can all be good if we simply try?

I leave the coffins behind with the sole intention of heading back to my room, an eagerness overtaking me at the thought of the new home I’ll discover tomorrow. I don’t _have_ to see the golden flowers, and besides, I think the Echo ones are more captivating. But I find myself pausing in the Judgement Hall, my eyes transfixed on the golden light shining through the windows. A stab of fear cuts through me when I think about what this hall will mean in the future. The next time I enter this place, it may be the day my life ends. Can I accept that thought?

 _No_ , a voice tells me, because I am meant to do more than survive long enough to die. I’ve escaped the lab, I’ve learned my magic, and most importantly, I have a new family to protect.

I need to stop this back and forth between hope and self-hatred. Sure, there are hundreds of reasons for why I don’t deserve to see the sun again, but I can give a thousand more for why it’s worth it to keep living, to see what the future holds.

Chara seemed confident that the Determination will be here soon, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make an impact in the meantime. One that, hopefully, will take the monsters one step closer towards finding peace with humanity.


	16. No Longer Children

Papyrus is up before the lights even brighten, and his triumphant yell is loud enough to wake me from a dreamless sleep.

“Home! We’re going home today!” he announces to the silent house, as if a crowd of millions is watching, envious of him for having such an admirable status.

I smile at how proud he sounds, confident that he’s found his  _ home _ . I wish I could say the same, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I’ve found mine. It’ll always be a new home, but never a true one.

I try to savor a few more minutes under the warmth of the comforter, wondering where I’ll be sleeping tonight. I don’t remember noticing a single thing in that house, but I think the floor would still be softer than a metal platform.

It’s not long before I hear Asgore’s door open too, and I sigh into my pillow. Goodbye wonderful, soft mattress. 

I climb out from under the comforter for the last time and neatly tuck it under the pillows. At least I still have my blue blanket, which I fold as tightly as possible and cram into my duffel bag.

I leave the pajamas behind, arranging their places in the wardrobe so it looks as if they were never touched. It almost feels like a crime to take the pink ones with no intention of using them, but reminding myself of the blood is enough to convince me otherwise.

I don the lavender and turquoise sweater with my usual jeans and even put my shoes on, glad that they’re mostly dry now after yesterday’s trip through Waterfall. Even though I’m the last one up, at least I’m ready to go.

I sling my duffel bag over my shoulders, taking one last look at the room. Everything is so immaculate, it’s as if I was never here in the first place. Good. This was never my home; I don’t need to leave an impression.

The others are already eating breakfast when I leave my room, and I drop my bag next to the boys’ near the front entrance. A bowl sits on the placemat in front of my usual seat, filled with a plain oat cereal. Either Asgore  _ really _ wants us to leave or Papyrus insisted on a quick meal so we can get going as fast as possible. I think the latter is the better possibility as Papyrus eats so fast it seems like he’s not even chewing his food. 

Before I can even begin eating, he’s already finished and races to the door, grabbing one of the two backpacks. Asgore jumps up to speak with him, far enough away that they’re out of earshot. 

“You gotta wonder how he has so much energy this early in the morning,” Sans mumbles into his hand. His eyes drift down to his bowl of barely touched cereal, staring but not seeing.

“You okay?” I ask, noticing faint shadows under his eye sockets. Was he up all night?

He smirks a bit, “Yeah, it’s just… as much as I want to be excited about this new place, I’m a little nervous. It’s not like living around just two or three people; we’ll have to interact with several on a daily basis.”

“It’s not too bad. If you’re friendly, most people will like you enough to tolerate you.”

“Is it like that on the Surface?”

“Mostly, although I didn’t live in a small town where I could get to know a lot of people. The greatest amount of interaction I had with others was at work.”

“What was your job?”

“I was a waitress; so I took people’s orders and served food. The restaurant was pretty small so it wasn’t too stressful. There were some regulars I got to know, but of course, I always knew much more about them than they did about me.”

“So, there were other people who worked there too?”

“Yeah, the owner did and then there was this guy who did all the cooking.”

“You didn’t get to know them?” he raises an eye socket.

I rest my head on my fist and squint at him, “Why so many questions?”

He shrugs, “I like learning about how your life was up there, especially the seemingly simple things. So did you get to know them?”

“A little in terms of the owner, but she wasn’t much of a talker. My coworker on the other hand... a person with less patience would have told him to shut up a long time ago. But I liked that he talked more, it gave me an excuse not to discuss my home life.”

“Did you consider him as a friend?”

I can’t help but smile a little, “Yeah, he was my first and only friend.” For some reason, Sans seems surprised about that. “Yep, as much as Papyrus wants a bunch of friends, I don’t see much value in that. I’ll be nice to strangers, but I never intend my niceness to mean anything more than being civil. I’m worried that he’ll try too hard to make everyone like him, and in the end, most will reject him.”

“Yeah... so I guess you don’t have the expertise I was looking for,” Sans winks.

I roll my eyes, “Yes, I’m terribly sorry that I don’t have top-tier communication skills.”

“Sans, may I speak with you?” Asgore asks across the room. 

I look over to see Papyrus bouncing on the balls of his feet, his yellow boots a beacon across the room. At least he was courteous enough not to interrupt us, but I still feel bad for holding him up.

“Sure thing,” Sans says and he heads towards the entrance. 

I take my bowl into the kitchen, feeling awkward sitting alone at the isolated table. Not even a minute later, Papyrus walks in, beaming.

“Look at you, ready to go before the lights have even brightened. Sorry I’m not as on top of my game,” I say.

“That’s okay; I just really want to get there! We’ll finally start our lives for real,” he says.

“Because of the independence?” I ask around a mouth full of cereal.

“That and all the people we’ll get to meet. They’ll be graced with my greatness, and I’ll gain the recognition I deserve.”

I make sure not to raise my eyebrows at his egotistical tone. Papyrus is caring, but I’ve been noticing that side of his personality fading into the background over the past few weeks. Taking its place is the part of him that yearns for recognition, a need to be important to others. And we haven’t been doing much to keep that need from growing. It seems that every compliment we give Papyrus drives him further into thinking that everyone should believe he’s great. I don’t have the heart to discourage him from that mindset, but I’m concerned that someone will take advantage of his abilities by making him believe they are his biggest fan.

“True, what’s life without a little fame?” I say, hoping he remembers that a  _ little _ fame is the most we need.

“Ah, but that’s not ambitious enough. Think of the whole Underground! There are always more people to meet,” he says, raising his chin.

Oh boy. I guess there’s no turning back now.

“Alright then,” I put my bowl in the sink, “off to Snowdin to begin your quest towards the rank of a celebrity. But please remember when you get there, that Sans and I will always be your number one fans.”

He smiles, “Of course! And you two will always be number one in my sort-of existent heart.” 

I can’t help but duck my head a little, “Aww, thanks, and you know, since that expression is figurative, you most certainly do have a heart.”

“Really?”

“Definitely,” I pat his shoulder, realizing that he might have more of a heart than I do. I can certainly bet everything I have that the thought never even crossed his mind to hurt his “father.” Not like it did with Sans. Not like it did with me.

We walk back into the living room where Asgore seems to be finished talking with Sans.

“Can you two wait in the courtyard while I talk to Krista?” he asks the boys.

“No prob’,” Sans says, grabbing his backpack.

They leave the house and Asgore moves so we’re out of the doorway, closer to the table.

“I know it’s been bothering you, so you’re going to take it whether you like it or not,” he says, handing me a small drawstring pouch. Inside, I see gold coins sparkling, the numbers on them ranging from 50 to 500.

My eyes widen, “This is way too much; I- I’m sure the boys and I can find jobs quickly.”

“I said you were going to take it whether you liked it or not. Also, don’t worry about any payments on the house regarding electricity or water; I’ll take care of them. You use that money for whatever you want, preferably food and clothes, but I know how much Papyrus loves new puzzles.”

“I- I don’t know how to thank you,” I stutter.

“You don’t have to; it’s the least I can do. And…” he pulls a envelope-folded paper out of the front pocket of his button-down shirt. “This is in case you ever encounter some monsters who are… unfriendly because they know you’re a human.”

I take the paper and unfold it, revealing a letter in his neat handwriting. His signature concludes the document, along with the Delta Rune symbol imprinted in gold ink at the bottom of the page; I guess that’s his royal seal.

“In summary, it states that you are a rightful citizen of the Monster Kingdom, and you’re under the king’s protection despite being a human.”

“A- are you sure?” I ask.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, it contradicts what you’ve been telling your people for the past few centuries. Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Not at all, because your safety is far more important than a few monsters’ opinions.”

My face scrunches with uncertainty, but I still dig my notebook out and tuck the paper inside, shoving the pouch of money into my bag along with it.

“Anything else?” I ask apprehensively, feeling guilty enough for how much he’s given me.

He smiles in that sad way of his, “Those boys are going to need you, Krista. Help them understand how the world works. Now, I know it’ll be a learning process for you too, but the monster world isn’t as different as it may seem.”

I nod even though I feel it’ll be more difficult for me to learn than them. “I’ll try.”

The lights brighten to their daytime setting, and I pick up my duffel bag, not wanting to keep Papyrus waiting any longer.

“We’ll visit every now and then, update you on how things are doing.”

“That sounds wonderful; in the meantime, I’ll try to make something more elaborate than tea to celebrate.”

I smile, “I can’t wait.”

I turn to head for the entrance when his anxious tone stops me, “Uh, Krista?”

I look back and he opens his arms, a silent question. My throat tightens at the gesture, and I feel that surging ache I’ve felt for the past eight years: the yearning to feel loved by a parent.

I drop my bag and walk into his arms, realizing how much shorter I am when my head doesn’t even reach his shoulders. Asgore holds me close, lightly stroking my hair a few times. A well of tears fights to burst out as the sensation reminds me of what it feels like to be safe, warm… and loved. It’s the kind of hug that says the other person will take care of everything, that there’s nothing I have to be afraid of. And I’ve missed it  _ dearly _ … but it’s not something I can have anymore. My childhood is long over, and as much as I love the protection, it’s not a luxury I can have anymore. I’m not worthy of it after all that’s happened.

I pull away, biting the inside of my lip to hold myself together.

“Thank you, for everything,” I say genuinely, my throat aching from fighting my emotions.

“Thank  _ you _ , Krista. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart,” Asgore says, seeming to hold back tears himself.

I grab my bag and head for the entrance, seeing the boys are waiting at the end of the courtyard. They smile when I reach them and head around the corner for the elevator. I follow, but not before glancing back to see the king wave, his expression so anguished I wonder if he’s finally allowing the tears to fall.


	17. One Of Many Paths To Home

We take the elevator back to the same area as before, leading to the lab on the left, the river straight ahead, and a wooden bridge on the right. 

“Asgore said the fastest way to get to Snowdin is taking the bridge since there’s no guarantee the River Person will show up,” Papyrus says.

“Lead the way,” I tell him, only slightly worried that we might get lost. For all of Asgore’s assurances that the Underground is not very big, I still think each area is its own labyrinth.

When we reach the bridge, I stop dead as every instinct commands me to turn back. The boys continue walking without a thought, but my anxiety spikes at the sight of the railless, narrow bridge. It doesn’t move at all while they walk on it, as if it’s made of stone rather than wood, but what I’m supposed to cross over is what keeps my feet planted.

Lava, scorching, searing, sweltering  _ lava _ the size of a lake aimlessly moves below the bridge, and sweat bursts out on the palms of my hands. Even though this is the first time I’ve seen it in person, I’ve feared it since I was four. I remember sneaking into the living room where my parents were watching some action movie I knew I was too young to see. And I paid the price by witnessing one of the characters fall into a volcano and burn to death.

Ever since then, my fear of dying from lava has resurfaced in dreams multiple times, but I’ve always reassured myself that it would be impossible for me to see it in real life. How great that I now have to walk over it on a bridge with no railings.

“Hey Krista, what’s the holdup?” Sans asks from the bridge halfway point.

“Uh, heh, it’s just that… I kinda have a fear of what’s down there,” I say, pointing to the death trap below.

“What even is that stuff? It seems like it’s really hot,” Papyrus says, only a few steps ahead of Sans.

“It’s called lava, and yeah, it’s hot enough to kill anyone in a few seconds,” I say, my voice wavering with anxiety.

“Have you seen it before?” Sans asks.

“Uh, only in movies, never real life, but I think I still have a good reason to be scared of it.”

“But it can’t hurt you all the way up here; you’re completely safe!” Papyrus rationalizes.

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s  _ very _ easy to fall,” I say, still staring at the lava.

“Here,” Sans says, creating a line of bone bullets on either side of the bridge, providing a railing even taller than Papyrus. “Now just keep your eyes forward, and think of it like there’s water down there.”

I make a mental note to ask him how he’s able to create so many bullets at once and shove my fear as deep as I possibly can. It’s completely safe; I can’t fall and there’s nothing but water down there anyway.

I step onto the bridge, my palms sweating even worse as the searing heat surrounds me on all sides. My hands clench into tight fists on my bag’s straps, but I keep my eyes forward.

_ It’s okay. It’s okay. Deep breaths. _

I keep my steps as even as possible, reaching the halfway point in a few seconds. Being on the bridge makes me realize it’s pretty short, not as long as my fear exaggerated it to be.

The boys take off once I’m a few steps away from them, forcing me to walk faster, too. Before I know it, I’m back on solid ground with the lava lake behind me.

“See? Not so bad,” Sans says, nudging my arm.

“Thanks for helping me; I know it’s a really stupid fear, but I don’t know how to get rid of it.”

“Why with practice in crossing the bridge! But don’t worry, where we’ll be living, there’s no way lava can get anywhere near us!” Papyrus says, spinning to face the path before us that takes a sharp left turn. “Let’s go!”

He marches forward and Sans and I stay a few steps behind, observing the changes in scenery. The orange path fades into the muted blue-purple of Waterfall, and a large electric sign says, “ _ Welcome To Hotland _ !” on the right wall.

“Goodbye Hotland,” I mutter to the sign.

Sans chuckles, “You know, one of these days we’re gonna explore it.”

The path leads to a bridge over a river, and a few giant ice cubes float by towards Hotland. Have I seen them before?

I snap back to the conversation, “ _ You _ can, but I don’t want to.”

“But you  _ have _ to come along, I need adult supervision,” he says with fake meekness.

“ _ I’m _ not even an adult, buddy.”

“Eh, you’re close enough. Besides, I think it’ll help us understand the Underground better.”

“I hope you come up with a better argument when you’re serious about that.”

The path takes a right turn after we pass under a giant rock entrance, leading over a short bridge and then another one about six times longer. I peer over the sides of the railless bridges, seeing sharp rocks and a few puddles of water at the bottom. At least it’s not lava.

“I think we should tour Hotland sometime!” Papyrus calls back to us, waiting where the path dips down into a pool of water. “Think of all the people we could meet!”

“That’ll really get your popularity going,” Sans says as we catch up.

“Indeed,” Papyrus says, proudly lifting his chin before jumping into the water.

It’s fairly shallow, but even so, I cringe when my shoes and jeans get soaked up to my ankles. I really need to get a good pair of boots.

“Hey, look at this,” Papyrus says, pointing to a glyph on the right wall, just a few steps into the water.

“‘However… there is a prophecy,” Sans reads, “The Angel… The One Who Has Seen The Surface… They will return. And the Underground will go empty.’”

“Didn’t Asgore tell us about that?” Papyrus asks.

“Yeah, it’s talking about the Determination human,” I say.

“Why does it start with the word, ‘However’?” Sans asks.

“I guess there are a bunch of them scattered around here that tell a complete story,” I shrug, noticing his disregard of my comment about the Determination human.

“That seems counterproductive, why not put them all together?”

“Because that’s no fun! It makes you want to explore,” Papyrus says. “Now come on! I don’t want to take all day to get home!”

“Does it really bother you that much?” I ask Sans.

He shrugs, “I think of it like a book. I don’t have to search a whole house to find the next chapter; it’s all in one place. So why would a story this important be scattered around Waterfall? Is there more to it? Are there glyphs in Hotland? Why does everything have to be in pieces? Why can’t I get a full explanation at once?”

I’m taken back by how insistent he is, but I understand his frustration better than anyone. 

“I get it, although I wouldn’t say that to Papyrus since he seems to love that exact thing.”

Sans smirks, “A puzzle master no matter what the puzzle is composed of.”

We walk through the rest of the water area, dodging Echo Flowers while little diamond-shaped lights fade in and out. The path becomes a bank of black dirt with little clumps of cyan grass sprouting out of it. Not much time passes before we reach another water area that becomes a new dirt path, leading into a room that’s almost completely dark.

“Uh, how are we supposed get to the next room?” Papyrus asks. “I can’t even see it, and the Ceiling Stars are so dim that their light doesn’t reach the ground.”

“What if we follow along the wall?” I suggest. “The room must end somewhere.”

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” Sans says.

“Uh, can you take the lead then?” Papyrus asks me. “I wanna make sure I’m doing it right.”

“Sure,” I say, even though I doubt he’d get lost as easily as he thinks he would.

I put a hand on the damp wall, making sure to keep it in front of me so I won’t walk face-first into the next one. I step into the dark room, causing unseen tufts of grass to glow cyan beneath my feet. I turn right, and the grass glows wherever I step on it. However, it doesn’t brighten the room enough to see very far ahead.

Gliding my fingers over the rough, uneven stone, I wonder how long ago they carved this place out of the dirt. Was it some monster’s dream to create a place so mysterious yet so beautiful? But then why would they think a room that’s completely dark would be a wise design choice?

My fingers suddenly come in contact with a second wall right as my foot kicks something metal. A soft glow overtakes the room, and I see that the object is a lantern. I look to my left and a maze of glowing grass leads to the entrance for the next room. Only, why doesn’t the path lead directly across to the entrance? Why do we have to follow the grass?

The light gradually fades back to darkness, causing a few crystals scattered around the room to pulse a faint fuchsia-colored glow. But their light is so dim I think my SOUL would shine brighter.

“So we need to time it to get to the next lantern before the light runs out,” I say.

“Why do we have to follow the grass? Why can’t we just walk straight across?” Sans asks.

“Because that’s not the point of a maze! You’re supposed to find your way through and appreciate the creator’s talent,” Papyrus says.

“That or there’s something else going on here,” I say, hitting the lantern again before approaching the end of the path.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Papyrus warns.

“I just want to see what will happen,” I say and attempt to step off the path, but it’s like there’s some invisible wall blocking me. I shove my hands against the darkness, but it feels like a wall as solid as the stone behind me. Huh, I guess these monsters are really passionate about their puzzles and mazes. “That is so weird…”

I look back and see that the path branches off a few feet to the left, beyond where the wall should be cutting it off. Sans kicks the lantern again, and I’m able to see where the wall rounds off, allowing for the path to continue in that direction. But then, why is it so short? Was it meant to lead somewhere but the project was never finished?

“Is it really such a big deal?” Papyrus asks. I can see how much he hates interrupting my line of thought, but at the same time, he doesn’t hide how much he wants to move on.

“Sorry,” I shake my head. “I get obsessed over pointless things.”

Papyrus kicks the lantern and heads down the maze of sharp turns to the next lantern at the bottom of the path. I guess I’m starting to wear on his patience.

“Don’t worry about it. We can come back here and analyze it all you want tomorrow,” Sans says with a wink, following after his brother.

_ Yeah Krista, it’s not like this is the only time you’ll get to travel through here. You have all the time in the world to do whatever you want!  _

I shudder, that’s what I’m afraid of.

I follow after the boys, but I get stuck on that thought: having all the time in the world. I’ve spent my whole life reminding myself of how numbered my days are, always believing my best chances could be making it to twenty years at a reasonable number and thirty at the best case scenario. The thought of having the freedom to do whatever I want, with no cares whether or not I do anything that matters… what kind of life is that? Simply existing made my days matter when it came to Mable, and when I finally decided to care about my life in the lab, each day was a step closer to freedom. But having that freedom now, with the whole Underground for me to explore… it just feels selfish and careless. I feel like I’m supposed to be doing more. I’m so used to losing chances at happiness that I don’t know what to do when one finally decides to stay for a while.

The boys reach the end of the room a few paces ahead of me, stopping to read a glyph on the wall.

_ Them. They are what will make your days mean something. If you focus on them more than yourself, you’ll never be as selfish as you think you are. _

I straighten at the reasoning, almost happy with myself for finding a solution to my own dilemma. I stop behind them to read the glyph. 

“‘Without candles or magic to guide them Home, the monsters used crystals to navigate,’” I read.

“Are the crystals those purple things that were glowing when the lanterns dimmed?” Papyrus asks.

“I think that’s what they are… but why does it say the monsters didn’t have magic?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but we can think about it along the way, come on!” Papyrus says, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the next room.

I grin, “Aww, but I wanted to sit there and think for thirty minutes.”

He gives me an annoyed squint, “I know you can think and walk at the same time.”

“I’m not sure bro, I think I’m on the same level as Krista,” Sans says. “Why don’t we sit around the glyph and ponder the story of the crystals?”

“No time!” Papyrus exclaims, practically taking off at a sprint. Sans and I struggle to hold back laughter as we follow him. “I can hear you snickering back there!” 

The grass seems to sparkle in this room, much brighter than the last one with cyan trees lining either side of the path. It changes direction when we reach a square of grass with a clump of three mushrooms in the center, and Papyrus waits where the path continues.

“Now are you two going to stop being distracted by every little new thing you find?” he asks in a grumpy tone.

“Hey Papyrus look,” I point to the fungi, “They’re mushrooms! I know you haven't seen those.”

The faintest hint of a grin lifts at the corner of his mouth. “Alright fine, that’s kinda interesting, but no more distractions!”

“Awawawawahh!!!!” a high-pitched voice exclaims behind Papyrus.

“Aah!” he yells, jumping back from the intruder, defensively throwing his arms in front of us.

I step to the side to get a look at the disruptor, seeing what _ looks _ to be a white cat with black hair and a blue sweater. For some reason, it has two sets of ears: the normal pointy ones most cats have and the floppy ears certain dogs have. The tail also seems to be short like some dogs, not as long as it should be if it were a normal cat. Its features seem to stretch and distort, but it keeps that consistent, tiny smile a cat stuffed animal would have. Its eyes sparkle at the sight of us, and the cat’s little body begins to tremble in what I’m assuming is excitement.

“Ah! Hoi! I’m Temmie!” the little cat says.

“Uh, hi?” Sans responds.

“Tem hasn’t seen skeles in such a loooooong time! She misses brave skeles, theys had a lot of muns! They could hava paid for Tem’s colleg if they’d stuck around.” Temmie frowns for the briefest moment before returning to her smile. “But that’s okay! Tem happy to know you two skeles are here! Do you wanna come to da Tem Shop?” 

“How far is it?” Papyrus asks, probably calculating how much more time it will be until we finally get home.

“Not far, not far at all! Tem will show you! Come follow!” the little cat says before walking back the way she came.

“Are you okay with stopping?” Sans asks his brother.

Papyrus shrugs as we follow Temmie, “I guess so, at least we’re going to a shop rather than stopping just because the path makes a weird turn.” 

He sends me a pointed look and I give him a broad smile. “I still wanna check that out.”

“Go ahead, but I’m not going to be there to humor you,” he says with a squint.

“Awawawahh!!” Temmie exclaims, stopping in her tracks and turning to face us.

Her dark eyes connect with mine and her face lights up with a bright smile. “Aah! Human such a cuuuuuute!!!! Tem miss humans too! Sorry Tem didn’t notice sooner! First skeles and now a human too? Awawawah! Too much cuteness!”

Her legs stretch so that she’s taller than the rest of us, and she begins to take wide steps along the path. “Follow! Tem Shop very close now!” 

The boys and I trade a few confused looks before following. Temmie doesn’t seem like a threat, she just seems to be enamored by beings she hasn’t seen in years. Which begs the question: did Temmie participate in the War? Or was she just an innocent bystander who didn’t understand why humans turned violent and skeletons almost became extinct? I’m thinking the latter is more likely, especially since she thinks humans are cute. That’s one of the last words I’d expect a monster would use to describe me. 

The path makes a few sharp turns with the occasional clump of mushrooms to step around, giving a wide berth to four trees in the middle of the room. I notice that they’re white at their bases and gradually darken into cyan and then black. They’re not drastically tall, in fact I think my pear tree might be taller than them. But I guess it’s amazing enough that they can grow with only the light of the Ceiling Stars to support them.

When we reach the bottom of the path, I see that it forms a slanted  _ Z _ shape around the room, once again making us walk more than we have to. I should really ask Asgore who thought it was a good idea to make the paths so complicated.

It seems like Temmie has led us to a dead end when we reach the final corner that only trails back up before turning and abruptly cutting itself off. But instead of getting confused, she turns right and walks off the glowing grass towards what looks to be a stone wall based on how the Ceiling Stars stop.

The boys and I hesitate, but she waves us forward, “Come, come, Temmie Village is right here!”

We follow and she pushes open a hidden door, letting out bright light and quirky music that seems to disturb the serene, dark calm of Waterfall. We walk down a short hallway before turning left into a blue room filled with... well,  _ Temmies _ . A small sign greets us first, reading, “ _ Hoi!! Welcome to… TEM VILLAGE!!! _ ” But that’s as normal as the village gets as my eyes land on a total of eight Temmies, including the one that led us here.

“Hoi!” many of them chant. “You shuld check out Tem Shop! Very famus! Yaya!”

I don’t know if I should laugh or back away in horror, and it seems the boys share my indecisiveness.

“Uh, let’s just check out the shop,” Papyrus says, forcing a smile.

It’s not difficult to find as a wide entrance in the middle of the room is surrounded with signs praising the Tem Shop as one especially passionate Temmie continuously chants, “Yaya!!! Tem Shop!!”

Somehow I doubt it’s as great as they make it out to be, but at least it’s something that makes them happy.

Inside, I’m surprised to see a Temmie wearing a striped cyan and yellow shirt with gray hair, as if she’s the oldest and wisest of them all. Only, when she talks, she sounds just like the others, with bold exclamations and exaggerations about the greatness of her store. While the other Temmies simply seemed to have stretchy limbs, this one’s entire  _ face _ moves all around the blank canvas of the front of her head. I try to keep from wincing or looking away, but it’s so unnatural that I keep my eyes on the products she’s selling, which evidently seem to all be “Tem Flakes.”

“Food of the Tem!” the shopkeeper exclaims when I stare at three separate cups of what all look to be filled with torn up pieces of colored construction paper.

“So, is this all you sell?” I ask her.

“ _ And _ you can pay for Tem’s colleg! Only 1000 G tuition!”

I wince at the steep cost despite the fact that the price is a fraction of what even community colleges charge on the Surface. As much as I don’t want to break the little cat’s heart, there’s nothing worth putting our money into here.

“Sorry,” I say gently, “but I don’t think there’s anything we need here today.”

To my relief, the cat just smiles, “That’s okay! Tem understan, it’s a lot of muns! Hope to see you cute human and skeles soon! Boi!”

We back out of the shop and quietly leave the village, the Temmies seeming completely unfazed by our departure. The Temmie that led us here just waves as we exit the room with a cheerful, “Boi!” and we shut the stone door.

“Okay, I think I can mark that down as the weirdest experience of my life,” I say when we’re a decent distance away from the door.

Sans chuckles, “Same here, I wasn’t sure if they were all copies of each other or were just a close family. I think just talking to them is more interesting than their shop.”

“Yeah, I think Temmie probably wasted our time,” Papyrus says slowly, realizing his error in following her. “Which means we need to get moving, come on!”

He takes off in a sprint, leaving Sans and me with no choice but to follow. The cyan grass ends near where we encountered Temmie, yielding back to the bluish-purple stone. It’s interrupted by small waterfalls spilling onto the ground, creating small pools that we splash through, soaking the Echo Flowers lining the path. As we run, I spot glyphs on the walls out of the corner of my eye, tempted to stop and read them, but then I’d really lose the boys. Papyrus isn’t stopping for anybody at this point.

It’s only when the path branches off in two other directions does he stop, looking back and forth from left to right.

“What’s the hold-up?” I ask when I reach him with Sans a few paces behind me.

“Wahaha!” cries a laugh from the right, hidden in the shadows of an entrance to a different room. “Well I haven’t seen the likes of either of your kinds in many, many years!” 

“You’re not the first to say that,” I respond, suddenly gaining the same anxiousness Papyrus has. I don’t want to walk every twenty feet to be reminded once again that the three of us are unusual in the Underground.

“Oh, I believe it girl, but has anyone told you that your presences make them happy?”

I raise an eyebrow and walk into the room the voice is coming from, my eyes widening at how expansive it is after traveling down a short hallway. 

All along the walls are massive spiked rocks, their dark shapes distinct against a backdrop of navy blue stone. Water drips off the descending spikes into a pool that encompasses the room in a semicircle, only a few inches away from reaching our elevated path. Magenta and cyan gems of all sizes sparkle from their places embedded in the walls, competing with the light from the Ceiling Stars. In the far left corner, painted as large as it could be, is the Delta Rune symbol.

In the center of it all sits a giant turtle on a wide crate, holding a magnifying glass. His skin is a sickly shade of green, yellow, and brown mixed together with only one bright lemon-yellow eye. As he observes us, his right eye never opens, and he keeps his head turned so his good eye has full view of everything in front of him. He wears a simple button down shirt with shorts and a pith helmet, all a graham cracker tan. He smiles as we approach, revealing only a handful of yellow teeth left in his mouth. A thin goatee of hair hangs off his chin, and he strokes it once before leaning back.

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely happy,” he says.

I don’t try to hide my uneasiness as my face scrunches with distrust. “About?” I ask.

“Wahaha! You don’t get it do you?” he asks, his eye scanning each of us.

“What should we get?” Papyrus asks.

“This is progress! Progress towards peace! Sure it was never part of the prophecy, but I bet every item I have that the return of skeletons and the presence of a human in the Underground are good signs! ‘Course it could just be that I’m choosing to ignore the cynical meanings, but an old turtle needs to find some sort of hope! Wahaha!”

“I’m glad we could help,” Sans says, just as uncomfortable as I am.

The turtle laughs, “You three look lost; where are ya headed?”

Papyrus is about to respond when I cut him off, “We can figure out how to get there.”

The turtle smiles, “Smart, somebody taught you ‘Stranger Danger,’ eh? But I’m only trying to help. For all my knowledge, I don’t interact with enough people to share it with. You can keep your secrets, but I thought you’d like to know that your presence isn’t a curse. It’s a sign that things are starting to change once again, and I think it’ll finally be for the good.” His eye lingers on mine, before saying, “Now off you go! Didn’t mean to rudely interrupt your travels! Wahaha!”

We back out of his secluded “shop” onto the main path again, the three of us tossing confused glances at each other. I’m tempted to come back at a later time just to ask the turtle what he was getting at, but I wonder if it would be a moot point considering everything Temmie said led to nothing of value.

Before we can continue traveling forward, a voice like a distant ghost echoes up from our left, “Tra la la.”

I freeze but Papyrus smiles like he’s heard a friend he hasn’t seen in a long time. 

“Oh! The Person will be able to get us there faster,” he says and heads down towards the river.

“Whattaya think?” Sans asks me in a hushed voice.

“Let’s just get it over with,” I mumble back, unsure of how much farther we’d still have to go on foot.

“Hello travelers, where to?” the Person asks as we climb into the boat.

“Snowdin, please,” Papyrus says.

“You bet,” they respond as the boat begins to drift downstream.

Waterfall’s beauty is as breathtaking as ever as we pass glittering gems and whispering Echo Flowers. The river shimmers with the reflections of the Ceiling Stars, brightening the dim blue and cyan cavern. For a few seconds, I think I hear the haunting melody of a music box in the distance, but it’s so faint, I’m not sure if it’s real or not. The melodic drops of water onto stone are so soothing that I’m sure I’d fall asleep if I closed my eyes. But I stay alert, especially as the air temperature drops and the blue walls fade to white.

We stop at the same place as where the Person picked us up last time, and Papyrus jumps off the boat before it touches the bank.

“Thanks so much!” he waves to the Person before taking off down the path.

Sans motions for me to get off the boat next and I move without hesitation. When we’re both on the ground, the Person says, “You can be suspicious because of my riddles, but I am merely a well-wisher. I hope to see you all again. Tra la la.”

Then they float back up the river, singing away.

“If they’re just a well-wisher, then I’m secretly the next king of the Underground,” Sans says cynically as we turn to follow Papyrus’ footprints in the snow.

“The question then becomes: what exactly are they?” I ask.

“Someone who either pretends or truly knows more than the rest of us about something that’s probably not good news.”

“That’s quite descriptive,” I say with a faint smirk.

“You know what I mean.”

We take a left turn and I finally get a look at either sides of the main path. On the right side, dense pine trees crowd each other with branches weighed down by snow, their needles tinted a faint blue. It would seem like an endless forest except for the faint glow of distant lights peeking through them. On the left side is an orange brick building with the word “ _ Librarby _ ” written above the main door on a light blue sign. 

“Funny,” I say staring at the sign.

“What?” Sans asks.

“They spelled  _ library  _ wrong on the sign; kinda ironic considering a library represents literature which in turn is meant to be grammatically correct.”

“Do you think it’s supposed to be a joke?”

“I hope it is, otherwise someone should start looking for a new career path.”

With only a few more steps we finally,  _ finally _ reach the house where Papyrus stands across from it, admiring the building. I notice that he doesn’t have his backpack, and I find it on the front porch, as if he wanted to go inside but second guessed himself. 

He frowns slightly when we reach him and points the blue house key at us for emphasis, “You just  _ had to _ take your sweet time to walk that short distance.”

“They spelled the word  _ library _ wrong on that building, and that really bothers Krista,” Sans says, jutting a thumb in my direction.

“ _ You _ weren’t trying to go fast either so you’re equally guilty,” I say, raising my chin.

A sly smile spreads across his face, preparing for an argument about something neither of us is truly mad about. “Well  _ you _ -”

“It doesn’t matter!” Papyrus exclaims, pushing his brother to his right side and pulling me to his left, placing an arm across each of our shoulders. “What does is that we’ve finally made it! And we can make it our home! Our place in the world!”

I smile and wrap an arm around him, just a few inches above where Sans places his. “You’re absolutely right,” I say. “I think this is where we belong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the last chapter is so short, I figured I should post this now rather than make you guys wait two weeks.
> 
> It feels great to finally reach this point in the story :)


	18. It's Our House Now

The first thing I notice about the inside of the house is how strange the color choices are. The rug is a drab blue and purple, as if the richness of the colors were drained out of them, set in a squiggly line pattern. The walls are a dim burgundy-brown, making the room appear to be smaller than it actually is, with baseboards that are a dull orange. My eyes follow their paths around the room, traveling up the stairs on the left to frame two doors on the upper level. The doors aren’t much different in color, only a few shades darker that makes the orange look browner in contrast. In between the two doors is a framed drawing of a bone with a light green background. I guess that was the “art” Papyrus was referring to last time.

A short, yellow-green, two cushion couch sits against the wall the door’s connected to, with a wide, flat-screen TV facing it only a couple steps away on the other side of the room. Directly across from the front door is what appears to be the kitchen, complete with a tiled floor in a dark-orange light-orange square pattern. There’s a stove and a counter against the left wall with some cabinets above them. A sink and a refrigerator are against the back wall, leaving room for only a trash can in a corner the unoccupied right wall creates.

A fireplace sits a few feet away from the steps, providing enough room for a few rows of brick to be laid in front of it so the rug is a safe distance away from the hearth. The extra space creates a short hallway between the stairs and the main left wall of the house, leading to a closed dark brown door. I toss my bag halfway down the short hall to remember to check out where the door leads.

On the ceiling are three light bulbs concealed by glass domes, placed evenly apart. Besides them, the only other lighting for the main room is a line of four small studio lights above the fireplace, tilted so they’ll shine against the wall. I think they’d be better lighting than the stale glow of the three main bulbs. At least the front door has a window and there’s one above the couch. I miss seeing natural light in a room. Well, as natural as it can get.

“Hey Krista! Take a look at this!” Papyrus calls from upstairs.

It only takes seven short steps to get to the second floor, but I’m still glad that sturdy wood railings are secured on each side of the staircase. The second level is basically half a hallway, with the entrances to two rooms on the left side and a continuation of the right railing on the other. The wood is the same dark brown as the nearly hidden door downstairs, varnished so it has a glossy shine. The railing is tall enough that it reaches my collarbones, giving me a grateful sense of security. At least I won’t be afraid of falling in my own home, unlike those hazardous bridges built into the pathways in Waterfall.  

Papyrus ducks his head out of the second room at the end of the hall and waves me forward with an eager expression. 

“Look!” he exclaims, opening his arms to the room as if it’s a display case containing a precious artifact. 

My eyes widen at how much of the room is taken up by bookshelves stuffed to the brim with books, binders, and puzzle boxes. Jars of pencils and pens are delicately balanced on the little spaces left on the shelf edges. Piles of calendars are stacked on top of every bookshelf with slips of paper sticking out of them. The ceiling is covered with posters of real constellations, almost mimicking where their positions would be on a mid-winter night. The only light in the room comes from a square window in the right corner, with a view of the deep blue river that cuts through the seemingly infinite pine forest.

Sans waves to me from a spot underneath the window, a book already open in his lap that seems to be about astronomy based on the cover.  

“Not wasting any time, I see,” I tell him.

“Waterfall is quite inspiring,” he says, tapping the title of the book:  _ How Ceiling Stars Replicate the Real Night Sky _ .

“Yeah, yeah, but look at all these puzzles!” Papyrus says, gesturing to a shelf that’s neatly organized with as many boxes as possible.

“That’ll keep you busy for what, a week?” I say.

Papyrus laughs, “Nyeh-heh-heh! No, I’m not that good. Besides,” he pulls the Waterfall puzzle out of his backpack, “I’ve still got this one to finish!” 

“I guess today’s trip inspired all of us,” I say.

He smiles, “I’m going to set it up downstairs!”

Papyrus races out of the room, his movement kicking up dust collected on the old books. I suddenly feel an itch in my nose and I sneeze…  _ loudly _ . Sans jumps, slamming his book shut, and Papyrus darts back into the room.

“What was that!?” he exclaims.

“Uh, heh, a sneeze,” I say sheepishly. Even when I was little I always had a ridiculously loud sneeze; my dad said it once helped him find me in a crowded room.

“Wow, that’s nothing like either of ours,” Papyrus says.

“If we’re comparing to Krista’s, then yours isn’t much of a sneeze bro,” Sans responds.

“What’s it like?” I ask.

“More like a distorted cough,” Sans says with a smirk.

“Well  _ yours _ sounds like it comes from a little baby animal,” Papyrus says defensively.

“Wait really?” I ask, raising an eyebrow with a grin.

“Yes, and it’s the most adorable thing you’ll ever hear,” he says, slyly pulling a book off a shelf.

Sans rolls his eyes, “No, it’s-”

Papyrus cuts his brother off by flipping the pages of the extremely dusty book in Sans’ face, causing him to fall into a fit of… kitten sneezes.

“Oh. My. Gosh,” I say, covering my smile.

“Hey…hih-kih! It’s not… hih-kih! Funny,” Sans says through sneezes.

“It’s like you’re a little kitten!” I squeal.

Papyrus busts out laughing, “You see, Sans? I’m not the only one who thinks it’s cute!” 

“Yeah, yeah, hih-kih! Go do your puzzle,” Sans says, waving his brother away.

Papyrus laughs and gently places the book back on the shelf, leaving plenty more dust to disturb at some point. He gives me a wink and strolls out of the room.

Sans shakes off the rest of his sneezes and re-opens his book so I can’t see his face, a sign that he doesn’t want to talk. I smirk and look away; I wouldn’t have guessed he was so self-conscious about something that’s not a big deal at all.

Papyrus’ absence makes me realize the room is suffocatingly tiny, only slightly bigger than the size of my cell. The sheer amount of  _ stuff _ crammed into it doesn’t help. I’m guessing this was Gaster’s storage closet.

The thought hits me like a brick to the face. All of this was  _ Gaster’s _ , which means I’m getting a glimpse into what his personal life was like. The room doesn’t tell me much, and I don’t want to know much anyway, but it’s interesting. 

Did he like stars? How long did it take him to organize those posters? Were they mapped out in his head? Or did he have to dig through pages of books and blurry memories to replicate the night sky? Why did he keep all those calendars? What are all those slips of paper for?

I spot a particular calendar with its corner hanging off the edge of the top of a bookshelf, and I stretch as high as I can to reach it. Unsurprisingly, I’m too short and I look around for some form of a step stool when I realize I’ve been forgetting my most convenient assistant.

I chuckle and grab the calendar with my magic, easily drifting it down to catch it in my right hand. 

“What’s so funny?” Sans asks.

“Are you no longer embarrassed, kitten?” I ask sweetly.

He squints in annoyance, but I see the hints of a smile, “Yours is worse than mine.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t be embarrassed; I think it’s cute,” I say, sitting next to him under the window. 

I finally get a full smile, “Fine, now what were you laughing about?”

“Oh, just the fact that I forget I have magic,” I gesture to the bookshelf, “I wanted to get this calendar off the top and was looking for a chair when I remembered I could just use magic. It’s been months and it’s still not normal to me.”

“Why did you even want the calendar?” he asks.

“Curiosity,” I say, placing the calendar on the floor and opening it to January. Apparently the year was 1912.

Numerous slips of paper are stuck to the small squares, as if someone had many more things to keep track of for those days. Only, there’s no writing on any of them. I flip through each month of the year, but there’s not a speck of ink anywhere, leaving a blank calendar with blank notes.

“His writing disappeared from my calendar too,” I say softly.

“You know I checked in the refrigerator and the closet in that other room, there are no food or clothes. And yet this room still full of stuff that was his,” Sans says.

“It’s like the Core picked and chose what it wanted to erase of him,” I say.

He squints a bit before slowly nodding, “Oh yeah, it  _ was _ the Core that he fell into.”

“More like you shoved him.”

“Well, I can’t take all the credit for something he had coming.”

“How humble,” I say before standing up and putting the calendar back. “By the way, when did you get so good at making multiple bullets at once?”

He waves his hands around as if he’s a magic expert, “Practice.”

“Yeah but, I haven’t seen you practice that much.”

“Well it’s good to know you haven’t been spying on me during my midnight training sessions.”

I smirk, “Yeah right!” His expression doesn’t change. “You’re serious?”

“How about this, once we get used to Snowdin, we’ll spar sometime.”

“Are you sure about that?” I ask, knowing how much he hates addressing his “condition,” but it’s still a crucial factor to remember.

“Definitely, you’ll just use defensive magic.”

“Alright then, the time will be your call. For now, I’m gonna check out that other room.”

“There’s really nothin’ to see,” he calls as I leave.

“Yeah but  _ I  _ haven’t seen it!” I say back and enter the room on the opposite end of the top floor.

The space is much larger than the other room, about three times bigger. It has the same window in the right corner, but there’s a door to the left of it that leads to a small, empty closet. The only furniture in the room is a twin size mattress in the left corner, so pristine it’s as if no one has ever slept on it.

There really is nothing to see, especially in comparison to the other room, but it’s worth knowing the layout of the house. I can already tell this will be the boys’ room for now, which reminds me that I have yet to see where that extra door leads.

I walk downstairs to see Papyrus working on his puzzle at a high table by the door. I’m not surprised to see that there’s only one high chair to go with it. We’ll have to find some store around here that supplies them.

I point up the stairs when he looks at me, “That room is yours and Sans’ for now.”

“Where will you sleep?” he asks.

I side-jump onto the couch and immediately regret it when I feel springs dig into back. “Here,” I say with forced enthusiasm.

“Are you sure? Because even I can feel the cold air coming from that window,” he says, pointing to the wide, half-oval window that takes up most of the wall above the couch. I hold my hand near the glass and see what he means.

“Well,” I say, spotting two cream-colored curtains rolled up above the window, “these will help block out the cold.” I pull them down and shut them together, glad that the material is thick. “No worries.”

He squints in disbelief, but not at the curtains, at the couch. “Fine, but I will not allow you to sleep on that old thing!”

“What are you talking about?” I ask as if I’m not practically lying on a bed of springs.

“We are getting a new couch today! It’ll be bigger and better! Something you deserve, not something you should have to tolerate.”

“Uh, I’m not sure if it’s necessary, considering we don’t have jobs to pay for something like that,” I say, genuinely concerned.

“Nonsense! Asgore gave me enough money to buy a whole new house!”

“Same here,” Sans calls from upstairs.

“Wait, really?” I ask.

“Brother!” Papyrus yells, and Sans tosses Papyrus’ backpack down to him from the railing. He catches it and pulls out a pouch of coins the same size as mine. From upstairs, Sans holds one of his own.

“Asgore said you’d probably be too focused on saving for essentials, so we’re here to buy things that don’t  _ really _ matter, but they still matter,” Sans says with a wink.

“Which means make a list, sister, because we are going to make this house ours!” Papyrus says as if he already knows all the renovations we’ll make.

I laugh at his formal tone, as if he’s ordering me to come up with random things to spend money on. I can’t help but scan the walls, almost feeling pain at how monochromatic everything is. Is it a monster thing? Or are most beings in general against color variations in homes?

“Then I think I want to change these colors; a different one for each wall,” I say.

“Done,” Sans says, flipping a coin.

“And we need some good winter clothes.”

“And a new couch,” Papyrus says, narrowing his eyes at me.

I laugh, “Yes, and we need some food in the fridge!”

“And I want whatever magic that eliminates book-dust from a house,” Sans says, pointing at Papyrus.

He laughs, “Aww, it wasn’t  _ that _ terrible, brother!”

“And besides, we can’t spend  _ all  _ our money at once,” I say, raising an eyebrow at Sans.

“It’s a useful thing to buy,” he argues half-heartedly.

“You know what? I will personally make sure to air-out any books you want to ensure the page-dust is completely gone. Free of charge. Isn’t that a great bargain?” He gives me one of his annoyed looks but I just smile, “Of course it is! Now let’s go shopping!”

***

We decide to get paint first so we can change the wall colors while the house is still fairly empty. The only problem is… where do we get paint?

“I bet someone at the library would know,” I say and the boys don’t question my suggestion. I guess some of my “Surface knowledge” really can help us here.

I’m surprised by how small the single-room building is and how it makes Gaster’s storage closet look more like a library in comparison. There are only six bookshelves lined against the main wall, each one defined by the color of the books’ spines. A small table takes up the right side of the room and a counter sections off most of the left.

“Welcome to the library,” a green lizard-looking monster says behind the counter. “Yes, we know. The sign is misspelled,” he says defensively, pushing up his glasses.

“Then why doesn’t someone fix it?” Sans blurts out, and I wince as the lizard’s cheeks turn a faint shade of red.

“ _ Because _ there isn’t enough money in the town budget for something as trivial as a misspelled sign. Now did you come in here to insult me or are you actually looking for something?”

I step closer to the counter and try to put on my best, “ _ I’m super sorry about this, and I don’t want any trouble _ ” voice that I’ve used with irritated customers. “We just wanted to know where we could get paint for walls, and then, if it’s not too much to ask, where we can buy a couch?”

The lizard scoffs, “Just go to Blizzard Hype; they’ve got everything there. It’s the biggest store from here to the outskirts of New Home City.”

“Where is it?”

He points out the window to the left of the door, “Just go straight through those trees and you’ll hit it in no time. You couldn’t miss it if you were blind.”

“Okay, thanks a lot,” I say, moving to leave so he won’t kick us out.

“Are you three new to town?” he asks before I open the door.

“Eh, you could say that,” Sans says.

“I’m Papyrus,” the taller skeleton greets, holding out his right hand for the librarian to shake. I’m guessing Sans taught him about that.

“Copernicus,” the lizard says with a quick shake, probably suspicious of Papyrus’ boldness when his eyes dart to the plate on his hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I’ve just always had it,” Papyrus says, slightly nervous and he tucks his hand behind his back.

Copernicus squints, “Well it’s not natural, so where did it come from?”

“Thanks for telling us where the store is; we’ll be going now,” I say, opening the door and ushering the boys out.

Thankfully, they both eagerly leave, and Copernicus fixes his gaze on me, adjusting his glasses. “You don’t look natural for this place either.”

“I’ll make sure to give you a five-star review for your oh-so-welcoming attitude,” I say condescendingly and slam the library door.

“What a jerk,” I mutter, and we cross the main road to the other side that’s seemingly nothing but a forest. However, at the tree line, there’s a small path that cuts through the forest, marked with a small sign that says, “ _ To Blizzard Hype _ .” Unlike the short trees in Waterfall, Snowdin’s seem to be exactly like the towering pine trees on the Surface. I can’t see the building from this distance, and it makes me nervous that it’ll be a long trek. 

“He looked kind of horrified when he noticed my hand,” Papyrus finally says softly after a few minutes of walking. “Maybe it really is something that’s wrong with me.”

“Remember what I said?” I tell him. “People judge when they don’t understand, and that guy was already in a bad mood, which made him act so insulting.”

“Is that it?”

“Definitely.”

“Well it doesn’t seem like a lot of people understand it, and I don’t want every first impression to start off so bad.”

“Then why don’t you shake hands with your left? It’s what I do,” Sans says.

“Yeah, but you’re left-handed; I’m right-handed,” Papyrus objects.

“I guess using your left doesn’t feel  _ right _ to you?” Sans asks with a smirk.

“Sans!” Papyrus exclaims in annoyance.

I try to hold back a laugh, “Okay, then what if you just wear gloves so no one can see it? The weather is a perfect excuse to always wear them.”

Papyrus’ eyes light up, “Hey that’s a good idea! It’s an easy solution, and no one will question it!”

“Aww, you don’t like my suggestion?” Sans asks with a wink.

His brother frowns, “No.”

The difference between their dominant hands suddenly makes me wonder what Gaster’s was. Wasn’t he right-handed? I could’ve sworn I saw him write with it. Which means it would make sense for him to cut into his non-dominant hand first… and Sans was labeled Subject One... Could that really be the only reason why he’s a lefty? It’s strange to think of it that way, but then again, it’s almost funny if that’s the case.

There’s another wave of silence before Sans speaks up again, “So what colors are you thinkin’ about painting the house, Krista?”

“Well, you guys can pick some of them; they just all have to look good together. I’d say we start with four colors, one for each wall.”

“I think we know which ones are off the table, right?” Sans says, more to me than Papyrus.

“No gray or white!” Papyrus blurts. “I can’t tell you how much I wanted to paint New Home for all those weeks.”

“Definitely, let’s just see what they have and we can find some good combinations,” I say.

We finally reach the end of the forest where the snowy path fades to clear cobblestones. Despite the chill air and the light snowfall, not a single flake or chunk of ice touches the path; I bet some sort of magic is protecting it. The stones lead straight to the front door of a towering oak paneled building.

The title  _ Blizzard Hype _ arcs over the entrance in a swirly font with a snowflake over the “ _ i _ .” There are two sets of wooden double doors with an “ _ In _ ” set to the right and an “ _ Out _ ” to the left. Papyrus grabs the handles on both of the  _ In _ doors and opens them as if to make a grand entrance.

“After you, second coolest person I know,” Sans says to me, grabbing the right door.

I roll my eyes, “Thanks, second coolest person  _ I _ know.” 

A wave of heat hits my frozen cheeks, and I realize just how cold I am as I adjust to the temperature difference in the building.

“Whoa,” Papyrus whispers, admiring the sight before us.

Whoa, indeed, as it seems they really do have  _ everything _ . Signs hang from the ceiling to label the different sections of the store, seemingly providing anything we could ever want. My eyes land on one that says, “ _ Home Decor _ ,” and I wonder if that relates to paint.

“That could be it,” I say, pointing to the sign on the far left and we head in that direction.

Despite how massive it is, the store seems kind of homey with wood floors and soft lighting. It’s nothing like the sterile white tile and harsh brightness of the giant stores I’ve seen on the Surface. A cheerful piano song plays quietly over the speakers, and I occasionally pick up on the conversations of the monsters we pass. Amazingly, almost none of them even bat an eye in our direction.

I take note of each section we pass to get a general sense of what they are. Clothes and snow-related products like shovels and salt are closest to the front. Then house products like furniture and rugs are towards the middle, leading to  _ Home Decor _ on the side. In the center of the section is a half-circle counter where a light blue rabbit sits, seemingly bored to tears. Encircling the counter in a wide arc are shelves of little cards displaying practically every shade of every color.

“Wowie, I’ve never seen so much color in all my life!” Papyrus exclaims.

The employee’s half-open eyes shoot up to us and she jumps to her feet. 

“Uh, hello! My name is Engria, how can I help you today?” she asks in a forced cheerful voice.

“Hi, my name’s Papyrus, and we’re looking for different colors to paint our house.”

Her fuzzy eyebrows rise, “Uh, do you mean like a different color for each room?”

“No, we want our main room to be painted different colors!”

Engria’s nose twitches to the side, “That’s uh, an unusual request… but okay then. Do you want to know which ones would look best together?”

“We’ll look at our options first,” I say and head to the left where the shelves begin.

The first section is every version of red and my face scrunches at the sight, spotting the maroon the walls currently are. No thank you. Next is orange and I let the boys analyze the different shades.

Papyrus picks up a card labelled as, “ _ Pumpkin Spice _ .”

“What do you think?” he asks.

Sans shrugs, “Eh, it’s a little dark. I kinda wanna do light colors, but if you like it then it’s fine.”

Papyrus squints at the color but eventually nods, “No, I get what you mean. I don’t like being surrounded by dark colors, but then again I don’t want them to be almost white.”

 We go back to scanning the cards and I spot one with a shade that’s almost comforting to me, labelled, “ _ Fruity Tang. _ ” It’s exactly like the bright color of the inside of an orange and I smile. I’ve always been in the middle about the color, never loving it and never hating it, but this card reminds me of when I was given an orange in the lab. I was surprised I had missed seeing the color, and it mesmerized me for a good minute before I remembered I was hungry. I grab the card and ask, “How about this one?” 

Both of the boys’ faces light up and Papyrus says, “Yes! That’s perfect!”

“You found my favorite color faster than I did,” Sans says with a wink.

“I have intuition about this sort of stuff,” I say with fake pride.

“Choosing colors?”

“Exactly! Maybe I should find a career in it,” I say and take the card to Engria. 

“Okay, so what type of paint do you want?” she asks.

“There are different  _ types _ ?” I ask, having assumed it was just standard paint.

“Well, we offer some that are infused with magic so they keep a shine or others that dry in seconds. Most are designed so you can dab a little on the wall and it’ll spread to cover the entire room, that’s the most common technique rather than tedious painting. Most of ours don’t have any scent, but a few smell like various fruits or vanilla. While others-”

I hold up my hands, “Sorry, can you just tell me what’s the cheapest?”

“Standard matte paint, it’s got a glossy sheen with no scent. However, you’ll have to paint your house manually and it’ll take up to a day to fully dry.”

“Perfect, I’ll take every color in that type,” I say pushing the card towards her.

Engria picks up the card and gives me a squint but says nothing as she leaves to get the paint.

“Hey Krista, what do you think of this one?” Papyrus asks from across the room, lifting a light green card.

When I get closer, I realize it’s the same green as the half of my necklace, the color of Mable’s eyes.

“Sure, it’s perfect,” I say, wondering if he picked it on his own or if Sans suggested it.

As if he heard my thought, Sans nudges my arm and whispers, “For Mable.”

“You have to like the color, though,” I say, trying not to get choked up at the thought that he wants some form of a remembrance for her.

“I do, but even if I didn’t, I’d be proud to paint my house that color.”

“Thanks,” I say and look at the next section of cards: blue.

“What about this?” Papyrus asks, picking a card that’s a light azure blue. “For some reason, it reminds me of you, Sans.”

“Well I do like that one, so let’s go with it,” his brother replies.

I look back to find Engria at the counter again, and I take the two new cards to her.

“Just curious, how many colors are you going with?” she asks.

“Probably four as a start, we might get others in the future,” I say.

She smiles a little, “Well then I took the liberty of getting you some supplies you’ll need.”

Engria points to the other side of the counter where three extendable paint rollers lie, two packs of six roller covers, two brushes, a roll of yellow masking tape, and five aluminum paint pans.

I bite my lip, “How much will all this cost?”

“With four cans of paint, it’s usually 300G, but since most people never paint the traditional way, I’m willing to give you a discount for 200.”

“Is it really that unusual?” I ask.

She nods, “I had to dig that stuff out of the back and here,” she picks up a paint can from the ground, and I see a splash of the orange on the lid. “There’s your first color; I’ll get these other two.”

“I think we found the last one!” Papyrus declares, approaching me.

“Oh yeah? What’d you pick?” I ask.

He dramatically reveals the card with a spin and my eyes widen at the color: light lavender, exactly how the flowers would look in the sunlight.

“It’s pretty close to the shade of purple on your sweater; do you like it?” Sans asks.

I can’t contain my smile, “I think we picked the best colors imaginable.”

“Now all we’ve got to do is figure out how to paint the house,” Papyrus says.

“I’ve done it before; I can show you,” I say, gesturing to the supplies Engria brought to the counter.

“Isn’t there some sort of magic that could do it for us?” Sans asks.

“Aww c’mon, it’s actually really fun! I helped paint a room when I was little, and it doesn’t take as long as you’d think.”

“This is cheaper, isn’t it?” he asks with a squint.

“Maybe,” I say, suddenly very interested in looking away from him.

“That’s what I thought!” he lightly shoves my shoulder. “But I guess I’ll help.”

“I think it will be fun! It makes the finished product more rewarding!” Papyrus exclaims.

Engria arrives with the other two colors and runs off with the lavender.

“You know she seems to be weirded out by the fact that we got four colors,” I say.

“It kinda makes sense when the inside of every building is composed of only one,” Sans says.

“But why?” Papyrus asks.

“Because people are  _ lazy _ when it comes to painting,” I swerve my head in Sans’ direction.

He smiles, “It frees up time to do other things.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Buying all the other stuff we said earlier.”

“Eh, we’ll get to that, let’s just have fun painting!” Papyrus says.

Engria brings the final can and places the supplies in a brown paper bag.

“Okay, that’s 200G,” she says, opening a cash register entirely composed of slots for coins.

Sans drops two coins in Engria’s fuzzy palm before Papyrus or I even move.

“Are you that eager to spend money?” I ask him.

“One of us has to be,” he shoots back.

I roll my eyes and thank Engria for her help, grabbing the paper bag. I move to grab a can of paint when the boys each grab two.

“I’m not  _ that _ fragile,” Sans says, only slightly joking.

“Sorry, it’s just a habit,” I say as we walk back to the front of the store.

“A habit?” Papyrus asks.

“Whenever I went shopping with my sister I’d carry as much as possible. She was pretty tiny so I tried to make life easier for her.” The boys share a look that I’m not sure is concern or understanding. “Anyway, we can get all the other stuff we mentioned after we finish painting. I don’t know about you, but I’m already sick of those colors.”

“Same here,” Sans says as we walk back out into the freezing air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I'm changing things up in terms of design so I made some slight tweaks to the house that aren't in the game. We're just gonna paint away any reminders of the house's previous owner... 
> 
> I got the impression that you guys want to see a certain someone... =) and all I ask is for a little more patience, (I know he's in my freaking summary and he still hasn't truly shown up, which is my fault, but think of it as being all the more dramatic for when he does. I know I'll miss these happy moments when the time comes...) 
> 
> Fun Fact: The "Hype" in Blizzard Hype comes from the term "hypermarket" because I'm seriously bad at coming up with titles and hey, there's a little business trivia for you.


	19. One Final Secret...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably won't become a habit of posting two chapters in one weekend. I've just had more time than usual to write lately, so why keep you guys waiting?

When we get back to the house, the first thing we do is survey the room. Even though all the colors will look good together no matter what, we still have to decide on the best way to organize them. 

It doesn’t take much deliberation for us to conclude that orange and blue should be on opposite walls since they look best together; the same goes for green and lavender. The baseboards will also follow the opposite pattern for consistency. Maybe an interior designer would disagree, but the rationalization makes sense to us.

We decide to make the longer walls orange and blue and the shorter ones to the sides lavender and green. Orange will cover the upstairs and downstairs wall we first see when entering the house with blue taking up the opposite one. Lavender will cover the left wall with the fireplace and green will be across from it next to the entrance. Sans suggests painting the short hallway below the steps purple so there will be more of it considering how much orange will take up the main wall. Papyrus and I agree to the idea and we get to work taping around the floor and ceiling so we won’t get any paint on them. The ceiling is white instead of maroon, but it doesn’t bother Papyrus since it won’t be the only color.

I almost smack myself when I realize I forgot to get ladders but immediately shake my head at my second case of forgetting magic in one day. Painting will already be easier than normal when Papyrus can float up to the ceiling and I can control objects. I don’t know what kinds of tricks Sans is hiding, but there’s more than enough to paint at his height level if he doesn’t have any. 

We start with the right wall first since it’s the smallest one with Papyrus working near the ceiling, me painting the middle, and Sans painting the baseboard lavender.

There’s rarely a lull in our conversation like there was when we traveled to Blizzard Hype. I don’t know if it’s just because Papyrus isn’t thinking about what Copernicus said or if we’re all too excited about exploring our new home. We go over all the stuff we need to buy once we’re done painting, and I try not to worry about how much all of it will end up costing. My worry reminds me that we need to find some source of income soon, considering how much Sans seems to like spending money.

We take a break to let the first coat of green dry, and I find the remote for the TV underneath its wooden stand. I flip it on, curious to see what kind of entertainment the monsters have. The boys grab a few snacks Asgore had given us and sit next to me on the floor, peering curiously at the screen. 

“What’s this?” Papyrus asks, pointing his apple at the TV.

I try to explain to the best of my ability, saying how it’s like real life only it’s on a screen and they can’t interact with it. I list the different styles of stuff they can watch like movies, shows, news, and documentaries, hoping they understand.

“It’s not hard to figure out, just watch,” I say. The first few channels are nothing but static, and I try to justify my explanations in case nothing shows up. “I don’t know if TV is different down here so don’t entirely take my word for it.”

I finally hit a show where a square-shaped robot seems to be cooking some sort of cake.

“And now darlings,” the robot declares in an over-the-top announcer’s voice, “we add the MTT-brand vanilla! Just a couple teaspoons, we wouldn’t want too much!”

“What’s he doing?” Sans asks.

“Baking,” I say, hoping I’m right.

“Whoa, is that like cooking?” Papyrus asks.

“Yeah, it’s usually a term for sweet foods, but it can be applied to anything if it goes in an oven,” I say.

“I want to know how to do that! Quick! We need to get the ingredients listed on the screen!” Papyrus exclaims, jumping to his feet.

“Whoa, hang on; I’m sure this show will come on again. Besides, I kinda have some experience with baking,” I say, feeling a little prideful.

“Really?” Sans asks.

“Yeah, my mom was amazing at it, and I got to learn a few tricks from her.”

Papyrus frowns a little as the robot carries on with the show, dumping a plethora of ingredients into a small green bowl. I doubt half of them are even necessary, but apparently they’re all MTT-brand certified. 

“And now it’s time for a quick commercial break! My name is Mettaton, and stay tuned for more darlings!” the robot announces.

Why does his name sound so familiar to me?

A commercial advertising Blizzard Hype pops up and I laugh a bit, wondering just how many things the monsters can realistically advertise when there’s so little competition. Papyrus sits back down next to me, slumping his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get around to baking soon,” I tell him.

He smiles, “I hope ‘soon’ means within a week.”

“Definitely.”

I flip the channel to some show displaying a brightly lit room with checkered floors and a salmon-colored carpet. A fountain sits in the center of the room with a statue of that same robot on top of it.

“Come to MTT Resort to experience the most luxurious vacation of your life!” an announcer exclaims. 

“That’s who he is!” I yell, making the boys jump.

“Care to explain?” Sans asks, a bit dazed.

“Mettaton! He was Alphys’ ‘big project’ that Asgore kept talking about, the one that had a resort designed after him.”

“Uh, okay, so?”

“He’s the robot with a SOUL, the supposed ‘big celebrity’ of the Underground.”

“Aaaaand?” he asks in a bored tone.

I put my hands on my hips, “Oh, so now you’re going to get annoyed too if I piece things together that don’t seem to matter?”

“It’s worth getting annoyed over,” Papyrus says with a smile, only slightly serious.

Sans smirks, “No, I’m just wondering how long you’ve been thinking this over. If it’s been two months then I gotta say, I’m really concerned.”

I roll my eyes, “No, but it has been bothering me for the past two minutes.”

“Oh good, then yes, that’s a fascinating revelation.”

I stick my tongue out at him for his overly sarcastic tone.

“Hey that’s not fair, cuz I can’t do that,” he says with fake defensiveness.

“All the more reason to do it, buddy-boy,” I say and change the channel, only finding more static. 

“Is TV supposed to be this staticky?” Papyrus asks.

“Not usually, I guess there aren’t many functioning channels,” I say.

After a few more flips, I reach a magenta screen with the title of some song scrolling on it. What I’m guessing is the song plays flatly out of the TV speakers with a surprising pleasantness. It seems to be entirely instrumental with pianos and cellos playing together in a soothing harmony. The tune feels somewhat modern despite the instruments, as it lacks the melodies I’d expect to hear from classical music.

“I was wondering what I was hearing in Blizzard Hype, and this sounds similar. What’s it called?” Papyrus asks.

“Music,” I say, feeling a slight tightness in my chest when I remember I haven’t heard something like this since I was ten. I had played a CD of one of Mom’s favorite albums for Mable when my father came home early. When he heard the music, he was so furious he destroyed our CD player. 

“Let’s keep this on while we paint; I think it’s some good background noise,” Sans says, standing up.

“Yeah, I didn’t know I could hear something so pretty!” Papyrus says. “We should have this on all the time.”

They have no idea how much their enthusiasm makes me happy. But maybe one day, they’ll know how much I’ve missed living in a home filled with music instead of silence.

***

By the end of the day, we finish the right wall so there’s not a speck of maroon anywhere on it. We take a few steps back to admire our work, probably realizing this is the most artistic we’ll ever get.

“One down and many more to go,” I say, surveying the rest of the room.

“It’ll be a piece of cake with how skilled we are,” Papyrus says pridefully.

“No doubt about that,” Sans agrees.

I make sure the lids are sealed on the green and purple paint cans before moving to where I had dropped my duffel bag earlier. “So you guys get that big room for the night, okay?” I say.

“Where are you going to sleep?” Papyrus asks.

I toss my duffel bag onto the shabby couch, “Here.”

He scowls, “Oh no, you’re not!”

“Okay, then I’ll take the floor,” I say.

“Really?” Sans asks, seemingly disappointed.

“One night isn’t gonna hurt me,” I say, opening my bag. “By the way, do you want the blanket I have?”

“No!” the boys yell in unison.

“But... you’ll be cold,” I argue, surprised by their combined yells.

“You’ll be colder without it! It’s already bad enough that you have to sleep on the floor. And you know what? Let’s go to Blizzard Hype right now and get a couch! We shouldn’t have gotten so distracted with painting!” Papyrus exclaims.

I glance at the clock on the TV screen and see it’s 10:30. “Uh, it’s pretty late, and I really don’t feel like carrying a couch all the way back here tonight. Honestly, it’s no big deal.”

Papyrus frowns, “Fine, then first thing tomorrow!” 

“Alright, alright,” I say, putting my hands up. Instinctually, my eyes sneak over to the partially hidden door. “Although, we didn’t see where that door leads. Maybe there’s a whole furniture store in there.”

Papyrus huffs a breath of annoyance but follows when I walk over to the door. It has a traditional lock on it like the others, meant for a key, but I wonder if there even is a key for the door since it opens without hesitation.

Instead of leading into a room like I expect, a flight of stairs greets me. They curve to the right with a fairly sharp incline, almost triple the number of steps the staircase in the main room has. I find a light switch on the left wall and flip it on, awakening a bulb directly above us and one from somewhere at the top of the steps. I climb them up to another closed door that opens just as freely as the first one. It seems so bizarre considering the love Gaster had for locking doors, but then again, this isn’t a top secret lab designed to intimidate defenseless humans. 

The second door opens to a room that I guess is technically the attic, and it is  _ pitch black _ . I’m terrified for a split second that I’ve walked straight into another session, but I shake my head at the nonsense and feel along the wall for a light switch. I finally find it and a single bulb in the center of the vaulted ceiling struggles to illuminate the room.

I’m surprised by how modern it looks; what stands out the most is the plaster walls painted a light cream color. The dark gray rug is considerably softer than the one downstairs, but it seems to want to absorb all the light in the room with its sharp contrast. The wall directly across from the entrance is almost entirely sectioned off, leaving only about six feet of room in the left corner where a tall dresser sits. A door leads into the enclosed room, and I take a peek inside to learn that it’s a bathroom. Unsurprisingly, the shower is a standing one; I guess a lot of monsters swore off on baths.

Against the wall with the attic’s entrance sits a washer and a dryer, both stark black against their light background. They too create a small corner that’s the same length as the one on the opposite wall. I guess it’s meant for a laundry basket? Or maybe Gaster had OCD about symmetry. 

Above the enclosed bathroom, where the roof creates the sharp point of a triangle, a piece of wood cut in a perfect circle sits in the wall, as if it’s hiding something.

“Papyrus, do you remember seeing anything circular on the house from outside?” I ask.

“Hmm, maybe? Let me check,” he says, running downstairs before I can protest.

“What are you overthinking now?” Sans asks. 

I point to the circle and then point to the left wall where half of it is boarded up.

“What do you think he’s hiding?” I ask.

Sans shrugs, “Who would he be hiding something from in his own house? Why go to the trouble here when he had an entire secret lab? Besides, I don’t think he would have bothered with much else when we were the biggest secrets he was keeping.” 

“You’re probably right,” I sigh, “It’s just all so bizarre though. Why is this room so different from the rest of the house? Who came up with such a wacky design that the upstairs is technically the attic?”

“Does it really matter?” he asks.

“W- well,” I stumble, trying to come up with a good reason for fretting over something that really  _ shouldn’t _ matter. 

“It’s weird, yeah, but the ‘whos’ and ‘whys’ won’t be answered if we just ask ourselves. And in the end, does knowing really change anything?”

I sigh, “No I get it, you’re right. I don’t know when I became so... obsessive over small things.”

“Someone’s gotta be,” he pats my shoulder, “but don’t drive yourself crazy.”

Papyrus bursts into the room and points at the circle. “It’s a window!” he exclaims. Then he moves his attention to the left wall, “And that is a glass door that leads to the balcony!” 

“Huh,” I walk over and observe how the boards are nailed into the wall. They certainly ensure that not even a speck of starlight can enter the room. Either we’re going to have to be really careful removing them or we should get them out no matter what and repair the damage later. “Well that’s another project for tomorrow. In the meantime, I think I’ll sleep up here.”

“Really?” Papyrus asks.

“Yeah, this carpet’s a lot softer than the one downstairs; it’s practically a mattress on its own.”

“What a bizarre advantage,” Sans says with a wink and I roll my eyes.

***

I take my duffel bag up to the attic and bid the boys goodnight, glad that they’re not worried whether or not I’ll be comfortable. Sans and I both know a carpet is luxury in comparison to the metal platform we’re used to, but at least Papyrus has piece of mind that I’ll have the softest carpet possible. 

I find that I feel safest in a corner rather than out in the middle of the room, so I take the one beside the washer. I can easily stretch out if I want, but I curl into a fetal position and face the wall. Snuggled under my blanket, I’m pretty comfortable. Sure it’s not the esteemed magnificence of a palace mattress, but for my standards, it’s wonderful.

The only problem is: I can’t fall asleep. An hour passes… maybe two, and for some reason, I feel like I’m missing something. It’s as if there’s still a secret in this house I haven’t discovered… and it  _ wants _ me to find it.

I shove my blanket aside and find my way to the door, careful to be as quiet as possible. The main room is just barely lit by the distant Ceiling Stars, making me realize that the lights in castle were timed with them, while our house is solely based on our wishes. 

I scan the walls, wondering what I might have missed. Was it something in Gaster’s storage closet? I doubt it since nothing caught my attention earlier. Besides, I don’t want to risk waking the boys by going upstairs. Could there be anything in the kitchen? A quick scan through every cabinet and appliance tells me no. My eyes land on the front door. Did I miss anything outside? That’s probably it. After all, I never saw the balcony Papyrus mentioned. 

I make sure the door is unlocked before stepping outside and backing a few yards away. Of course, there’s a lot more to see than I’d originally thought, especially considering how I never even noticed the small igloo and wooden shed to the right of the house. Who could’ve made that igloo? Certainly not the former resident of our home. 

The shed is a light tan color with a single door on the front, only a little smaller than the bigger room on the second floor. Is that what I’m supposed to discover? I walk over to it and open the latch on the door, surprised there isn’t a lock despite a metal loop for one.

The room is almost completely dark aside from the faint light creeping in through two cracked windows on the back wall. I scan for a light switch, but from what I see, there isn’t one anywhere. It’s not like it matters since the shed is completely empty aside from a small lock and key resting on one of the window sills. I leave them be since there’s no point in locking up an empty room and head back out to analyze the house. Whatever I have yet to discover, it’s not in the shed.

To the right of the house, about as high as the attic would be, is a short but wide balcony, with half of it extended past the roof’s protection. Thankfully, sturdy railing encompasses it, and it looks high enough that I could possibly climb onto the roof if I wanted. The roof itself follows a similar design pattern to the house, with a section above where the main room would be and then a separate one to cover the attic. From the front of the house, it looks like the lower section snakes around the back to slope up and fold over the attic. A chimney sits to the far left of the lower roof, and it makes me hope we could possibly put it to use at some point. I miss the comfort of a good fire.

Just to see if my theory is correct about the roof, I walk around to the “backyard.” However, it’s difficult to see since there are pine trees growing almost directly against the house. From what I  _ can _ see, I think I’m right. 

I turn to go back inside, frustrated with my stupid self for chasing ghosts again. Why do I even feel like there’s something to find? I should have ignored my instincts; maybe I would’ve fallen asleep by now. At least I got a good look at the house, but why does this feeling seem even stronger? And then I stop, realizing I didn’t examine the back of the house. Those pine trees are doing their jobs too well. What if they were planted there on purpose?

I go back and shove the branches of the first tree out of the way, revealing nothing but the wooden siding of the house. I shove the next set of branches aside, feeling along for anything other than the smooth wood. And then I find it: the cold metal of a door knob. I try to turn it, but the door’s locked. The familiar rejection makes me smirk.

“Secretive as always, eh? At least you took that to your grave,” I whisper.

What could I use to unlock it? The house key? Would it work? Considering his fondness for having a separate key for every door in the lab, I doubt it’d be that easy.

But it wouldn’t hurt to try since I don’t have any other options. If finding whatever is in this hidden room will ease my thoughts, I’ll consider the unlikely choice. I struggle past the trees and make my way back inside. Papyrus had placed the key on the table near the door, which we had moved across the room to paint the now green wall. But when I reach the table, my stomach clenches, not at the sight of the untouched blue house key but at the gleaming silver key beside it.

The house is so silent I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, and I feel the hair rise on the back of my neck when I sense someone standing behind me.

“This isn’t supposed to be here,” I whisper with the vaguest hope this is some sort of prank from Sans.

But only silence responds, and sweat breaks out on my frozen hands when I sense the… presence come closer. I search for a SOUL, but I don’t feel one. However… there is  _ something _ . With a sharp burst of energy, I slash behind me with a sword, unsure of where the figure is but hoping I’ll hit it. But my magic only cuts through air, and there’s no one behind me. I lift my sword to let its glow illuminate the room, and I scan every inch of the area. Nothing and no one. What. The.  _ Hell _ .

My sword disappears and I grab the silver key with furious resolve.

“Fine then, I’ll play,” I whisper and stomp out of the house, making sure to ever-so-quietly shut the door.

I reach the back door and shove the key into the lock, half expecting it not to work. But it does, and the door swings open into a dark room. I feel along the wall and find a switch on the far right, noticing the only entrance is almost exactly in the corner. I grab the key and twist the knob to make sure the door will open from the inside before closing it. Two sharp lines of LED lights brightly illuminate the space, causing black spots to fill my vision. I blink them away, startled by the colors that compose the small room and the looming curtained figure directly across from me. It’s about double the size of an arcade machine and in a similar shape, but what is it? 

I take cautious steps forward, observing the rest of my surroundings first. The room is probably what the size of my cell would be if it was stretched out into a thin hallway. The floor is consisted of light purple-gray tiles, only four across to get from one wall to the other. The walls are painted a light blue-gray, surprisingly a few shades lighter than the blue we chose for the house. I reach my arms out to see if I can touch both sides of the room at once, considering its minimal width, but there’s just enough that I can’t. Only two steps away from the entrance is a shelf that almost takes up the entire left wall. It’s not very deep, and the only object on it is a blue poster. Based on the drawings and instructions, they seem to be blueprints for some kind of machine.

I turn to the curtained figure behind me, the only seemingly moveable object in the room besides the blueprints. What was he doing? I remove the mauve-colored curtain and it tumbles to the floor, revealing a black and gray machine similar to the drawings on the blueprints. It seems to be broken based on the cracked screen and worn down dials, very much like an old arcade machine. However, there’s a small circular platform on the floor to its left, shining like it’s brand new. There are way too many buttons and switches for me to understand what they’d do, but the words next to a bright red button and a blue one at least tell me something. In Wingdings, the red says, “ _ Open _ ,” and the blue says,  _ “Close _ .” I turn back to the blueprints, noticing the circular platform isn’t anywhere on them. I flip the poster over and my eyes widen at the intricate drawings and scrawled handwriting, so different from the rigid Determination Mono he had used on my calendar.

It’s all written in Wingdings, and I’ll admit, it’s a good refresher since I haven’t used the language in about a month. Most of the words are quick notes about how to put the platform together and how most of the dials change “magic pressures” and “voltage strength.” But what sticks out to me are the explanations for the red and blue buttons.

_ Red: If DT. MN. succeeds, the result might activate on its own. If harnessed properly, this could be useful. _

_ Blue: Wishful thinking but a reasonable precaution. _

I shake my head, what is he talking about? I flip back to the other side to see the first part titled Determination Manipulator with the DT. MN. abbreviation after it. So whatever it does, he hoped would activate what the “ _Open_ ” button is supposed to do? Then what’s the point of it? Or did he think the Manipulator’s effects would be too powerful and he was trying to use the platform to control it? And why is the blue one just “wishful thinking?” Did he think that was an even more ridiculous form of control? But what is even being opened? I don’t see any doors or hidden compartments on the machine.

I slam the blueprints onto the counter and realize I’ve been ignoring the most obvious question of all: how is his handwriting still here!? This must be some mistake; it  _ must _ be someone else’s. But that would suggest there are other monster scientists who know Wingdings. It’s a clever way to keep your plans secret, but I can name at least twenty factors that don’t add up even if it is someone else’s. Bottom line is: it wouldn’t make sense; this  _ has  _ to be Gaster’s handwriting. 

Is this room somehow sealed off from the rest of the Underground? Is there some sort of magic force field around it that protected these blueprints from the Core’s power? There’s definitely something off about it, considering the bright colors that juxtapose the inside of the house. It’s as if he built this extra room into the building when it was originally never meant to exist. I wonder if this was his secret lab before he built the one I’m familiar with. How surprising this one isn’t painted that god-awful teal green. 

Now that I think about it, the air temperature in here feels even colder than it does outside. No wonder my fingers are beyond numb. But there’s still more to find when my eyes land on four gray drawers underneath the counter. 

Inside the first one is a small photo album and my eyes widen. He was  _ sentimental _ about something? Although, who am I kidding? It’s probably a gift he just threw in the drawer and forgot about, or maybe it’s full of miniature drawings of the machine. I open to the first picture and immediately drop the album when I see the faces of four monsters. But not just monsters,  _ skeletons _ . And two particular ones aren’t just any skeletons, they’re Gaster and  _ Sans _ .  

I cautiously pick the album back up, realizing the picture is actually a magic image. Like the images in Asgore’s album, the paper is yellow from either age or how the magic was used.

The skeletons appear to be on the Surface in a grass field, each displaying a different version of a smile. I squint at the Sans-looking one on the far left, noticing he’s slightly taller with thinner bones. He also has much better posture and there’s certainly not a metal plate on his right hand. Someone who doesn’t see Sans everyday would probably be fooled by this image and believe it’s him. The resemblance is definitely there, with that permanent smile and rounded head, but I  _ know _ that’s not my brother.

The thought hits me so strongly that I realize this is the first time I’m acknowledging him as my sibling. Sure it’s only been a couple days since he suggested taking on my last name, but it feels like I’ve been holding out for months and am finally accepting the boys as my brothers.

My eyes shift to the far right where Gaster stands, looking the least happy out of all of them. Instead of a proud smile like the others, he has an amused smirk. Jeez, was there  _ nothing _ in this world that could make him happy? However, it’s definitely the friendliest expression I’ve ever seen on him; maybe it has to do with the fact that he looks really young. My eyebrows scrunch when I notice the distinct similarities he has with Papyrus. There aren’t enough that Gaster could be mistaken for my brother, but the resemblance is more noticeable in comparison to the appearance I’m used to.  

I flip to the next magic image and get a similar picture in a village setting, this time with seven skeletons. I notice the patterns in their appearances and realize Sans and Papyrus are examples of each side of the spectrum. Sans is on the shorter side with bigger bone density, while Papyrus is fairly tall with slimmer features. Many of the skeletons are close in appearance, which I guess is accurate considering almost all humans have identical skeletal designs. I guess over time, magic slightly changed the design to make the skeletons look more monster-like.

There are only four more images in the album, with Gaster not even appearing in three of them. Other monsters are in the pictures too, with some of them not even looking like comprehensible creatures. It makes me wonder if other types of monsters were wiped out in the War too. 

A consistent trend in the images is that Sans-looking skeleton and one other. They look so happy I honestly can’t say I’ve seen similar smiles on my brothers’ faces. Well, maybe Papyrus has smiled like that. 

Were those skeletons his family? His brothers? How did they end up dying and he alone survived? Frustrated, I shove the album back in the drawer and move on to the next one, knowing I won’t find any answers as much as I want them. 

In the second drawer, there’s some kind of badge with the gold Delta Rune insignia sewn on it. I flip it over and see what I guess is his signature in Wingdings. In the third drawer is a single piece of paper with Wingdings written on it too. 

_ Entry Number Seventeen: Dark, Darker, yet Darker. The Darkness keeps growing. The Shadows cutting deeper. Photon readings negative. This next experiment seems very, very, interesting… what do you two think? _

I squint at the paper. Uh, for starters, where are entries one through sixteen? Who are the two people he would be asking about this? Maybe Alphys and another assistant? I vaguely remember photons having something to do with light, and if the readings for them are negative, then this “Darkness” surely is growing. I look at the machine. For some reason, I doubt this had to do with breaking the Barrier. No, I think he was researching something else, something that seems to be limited to the Underground. Is it that “aura of magic” Asgore had mentioned that surrounds the Underground? He said it was caused by the Barrier as a side-effect that came from creating it.

What was Gaster trying to do? Harness that magic? Maybe he thought he could manipulate it into finding a loophole that eliminated the Barrier. Which means everything technically did circle back to the Barrier for him.

I open the fourth drawer and find a sealed container filled with red liquid. My throat tightens, and I gently lift the glass up, unsurprised to see  _ DT _ written on its side. The machine is called a Determination Manipulator after all, but did Gaster succeed in tapping into that magic? If he had, then it clearly wasn’t useful.

I place the glass back in the drawer, a little afraid that simply being near it will affect me. I doubt it’s the modified stuff meant for sessions, but the mere mention of Determination itself makes me uneasy. It’s too much power. Too much unpredictability. Too many possibilities for everything to go wrong.

“Are you happy?” I ask the...  _ thing _ that had brought me the silver key, unsure of where it went. However, I  _ feel _ like it’s watching me. “I’ve seen everything. Can I go to sleep now?” 

Silence responds and I scoff, “I’m getting crazier every day.”

I turn to leave when I hear a sharp  _ snap _ within the machine followed by a soft beeping. I look back to see the cracked screen flashing red and my stomach clenches; that can’t be a good sign. 

“ _ Select Trait _ ,” the screen reads in his font with a list of the seven.

I squint at it. Isn’t it specifically a  _ Determination _ manipulator? Or does it remove the Determination from any other trait that’s entered? I back away, no longer wanting to play whoever’s game this is. I turn to the door and try to twist the knob, but it refuses to open. My heart speeds up, and is it me, or did the room just get even colder?

I try to use the key, but the lock won’t turn. My last resort is my magic, but it seems that’s my only option now. I form a spike and throw it at the door, only to have it disappear on contact, like it has no effect.

“You can’t be serious,” I hiss, forming a thick sword and slamming it into the wood. This time, my magic doesn’t dissipate, but it has no effect either. In fact, it feels like I’m losing strength the more I try to push. I try the old-fashioned method by kicking the door a few times, but nothing happens.

“Okay, this isn’t funny,” I snap, scanning the room. The machine’s beeping speeds up, and I’m almost afraid it will self-destruct. Isn’t that the perfect defense against intruders? Destroying all the evidence? But… I didn’t touch it!

Shaking, I walk back and choose  _ Perseverance _ after messing with different dials, curious of what will happen. The screen goes dark and the beeping stops, but a small drawer opens to the left of the machine.

“ _ Enter trait _ ,” the screen demands.

My eyes slide over to the fourth drawer. There’s no way I’m entering my SOUL, and if this is the only way for me to get out of here, then I’ll give the machine what it’s designed for. I pull the container out and cautiously open the lid, immediately feeling the trait’s immense strength. It’s like I can hear it calling to me, begging me to combine my power with its own.

I only put a drop into the drawer before quickly sealing the container and shoving it back where it belongs. The machine’s drawer slams shut, and I wait in the silence, staring at the black screen. A few minutes pass and the temperature feels like it’s dropping with every second. I try to keep from shivering as much as possible, but with nothing more than jeans and Chara’s sweater, I’m chilled to the bone.

My anger spikes and I cross my arms as tight against myself as possible. “Well?” I ask the screen.

It beeps once before red text written in Determination Mono appears, and my blood finally freezes at the message.

**_Thank you, Krista :)_ **


	20. Worth More Than You Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after some debating with myself, I finally decided I'm going to post a chapter every week for now. This might change at some point, but I'll let you know whenever that happens.

The screen blacks out and the door swings open behind me, slamming against the wall. I yelp and jump back, almost bumping the machine. I wait for someone to step into the room, wondering if Sans has a sort of sixth sense about situations like this. But no one enters.

I look back at the machine, straining to see or hear anything else, but it remains dark and silent.

“So you led me down here all for a drop of Determination? Hasn’t he put entire bottles into you before?” I snap at the screen.

It might as well be flipping me off for all it will tell me. I sneer and throw the curtain over it, wondering if the coverage somehow keeps it dormant. I turn away and flip the light off before pulling the door shut. My anger sears when I stick the key in the knob and it works, allowing me to lock the door.

Amazingly enough, the frozen Snowdin air is actually warmer than what it was in that room, but it doesn’t stop my shivering. I trudge back to the front of the house and enter as quietly as possible, relieved at the warm air biting my skin. I kick my shoes off and sneak back up to the attic, silent as a cat.

I hide the silver key behind the dresser before tucking myself back in my corner, tightly wrapped in my blanket. The shivering takes a while to lessen, and my mind is racing from everything I just experienced. 

Was it the machine that gave me that feeling? Just  _ how _ did the silver key appear in my house? What kind of person or magic is influencing this? Gaster’s gone and Chara said she was locked in whatever that gray room was. Although, she did say enough “magical influence” can allow her to interact with the real world. Is it linked to the machine? Or could it be the River Person? Did they get in my house and then disappear? 

I tuck my face in the crook of my arm, trying to find some sense of security. But knowing that machine is down there is as unnerving as sleeping in the lab. 

How the hell does it have  _ my name _ ? Could it see me? There’s no way Gaster would have expected me to find his secret room and select Perseverance. Is Chara my only suspect? If so, then she has more influence on this world than she was leading me to believe. 

I curl into myself as tight as possible, feeling paranoia beginning to set in. I should have never listened to that feeling or whatever it was that convinced me to explore the last few secrets in this house. If there’s anything I should’ve learned by now, it’s that snooping will always,  _ always _ get me in trouble.

Despite how much I want to sleep, I can’t. About an hour passes with me wallowing in my unanswered questions when I hear a creak in the opposite corner of the room. What  _ now _ ? 

I silently turn onto my left side and face the darkness, my chest tightening with fear. There’s another creak followed by a dragging sound approaching me.

I push myself up and press my back into the corner,  _ certain _ I never heard the door open. Could this be whoever brought the silver key?

“You’re not welcome in my house,” I whisper to the figure.

A deep laugh rumbles within its throat, “That’s a bold statement, considering this is not your home.”

“I assume you brought the key?”

“Yes,” it purrs.

“How and why?”

“Let’s just say I am a… follower of a certain someone who has great interest in your actions. They suggested I assist you in eliminating that…  _ feeling  _ you had.”

“So someone did cause it,” I hiss, creating a sword and pointing it in their direction. The light reveals a gray and black creature with a wicked smile and no eyes, holding a small head in its left hand. Its legs are shriveled and wobbly, just barely able to hold its body upright. I press my back into the corner as much as I can, terrified of it getting any closer to me. 

“Your curiosity is an easy emotion to influence; it makes you quite useful,” the smaller head says, its eyes vacant and gray. The body just keeps a consistent smile with its mouth full of pointed teeth. Its right hand is pressed firmly against its temple, as if it’s fighting off a vicious headache.

“So what did I do?” I ask, still threatening the creature.

“You just set everything in motion; that Determination will help us a great deal. We thank you for that.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” 

The smile stretches so wide it almost reaches the creature's temples. “You will know soon enough.”

It begins to retreat back into the shadows and I jump to my feet. “I’m not done with you yet,” I hiss.

“No, but  _ we _ are done with  _ you _ … for now,” the creature chuckles, slowly backing away.

Its tone reminds me so much of Gaster’s that all my burning anger takes control, and I sprint a few feet forward, slashing at the creature. But I only hit air, and it laughs in my face.

“I volunteered for this just because of all I’ve heard about you. You certainly don’t disappoint, little Perseverant.”

Then it disappears with one final laugh.

***

I keep the light on for the rest of the night. I don’t want to say that I’ve finally experienced enough traumatizing events to have gained a fear of the dark, but my paranoia is so powerful, it might be true.

Even when I finally calm down and don’t jump at every subtle sound I think I hear, I probably only get three hours of sleep at best. It doesn’t help that the creature revisits me in my subconscious, only this time to bite a chunk out of my right arm with those razor teeth. 

I wake up with a jolt and my left hand clamps down on my forearm, as if I can keep the flesh from tearing off before remembering it was just a dream. Unfortunately, the creature’s visit was not just a dream, but at least things didn’t go as horrifically as I imagined.

I rub my sore eyes and grab my duffel bag, pulling out a dark blue T-shirt. I’m just gonna have to brave the cold today. Maybe I can convince Papyrus that getting winter clothes is a greater necessity than a couch.

When I open the door, I hear soft music from the TV and pick up on the scent of something burning. My nose scrunches and I run downstairs to investigate. In the kitchen, I find Papyrus scraping the burned remains of what I assume is a pancake into the sink.

He catches my movement out of the corner of his eye and he slightly jumps.

“Oh, Krista! You scared me!” he says, seeming embarrassed by his predicament.

“Sorry, are you trying to make pancakes?” I ask.

“Yes, but these stubborn things keep burning! I wanted to have breakfast perfect and ready by the time you and Sans woke up, but I guess that won’t happen.”

His shoulders drop, disappointed in himself for failing.

“It’s okay, why don’t I help? They’re pretty tricky to get right,” I say encouragingly.

His face brightens, “Yeah, you’ve made them a bunch of times, haven’t you?”

“I’ve made them enough times to figure out the tricks, but I will admit it’s been a few years,” I say, surveying what he’s done so far. I notice a recipe next to the batter bowl and realize the obvious question. “Did you go shopping?”

“Yeah, there are a few local shops around here where I could get most of this stuff. One of the owners said this was her recipe for pancakes and that it makes the best ones in the Underground. Then I went to Blizzard Hype for the cooking ingredients they didn’t have and just other foods in general. Do you think I got the right stuff?”

He opens the two cabinets above the counter next to the stove, revealing various cereals, sauces, and baking ingredients. They’re all neatly organized with similar items near each other. 

While it does concern me that he unknowingly put himself at risk by going out alone, I am proud of his independence. I just hope that things go as well in the future as they seemed to have today. Of course, by then, he won't have to worry about people noticing his hand.

I smile as my eyes graze over the various baking ingredients, already imagining the kinds of sweets we could make. “Did I ever tell you that every house needs a good spice cabinet?”

“No, do I need to buy more?” he asks nervously.

“No, you actually got the perfect amount, and it helps that they’re all organized. In a couple weeks, this cabinet will smell like cinnamon and cloves. I think that’s a crucial element to a kitchen.”

“So I did it right?” he asks.

“Of course, I don’t think there’s a single thing I could think to add to this,” I say, checking out the rest of the kitchen.

On the counter, pushed up against the wall, are bananas, pears, red apples, and peaches, about five of each and a loaf of bread.

“They said this fruit was picked off the trees in the Royal Garden just yesterday. That means it’s really fresh, right?”

“Yeah, they have better flavor that way.”

As much as I want to devour the fruit, I turn and walk over to the fridge. Inside are three gallons of milk, a quart of orange juice, a head of iceberg lettuce, two tomatoes, a carton of eggs, and a block of cheddar cheese.

Wow, he really did get pretty much everything we’ll need for at least a week. I can see how some of the ingredients follow what Asgore usually had in the fridge, but someone must have told him about the lettuce and tomatoes.

“I asked some people what they thought were good foods to generally have, and they recommended most of that stuff,” Papyrus says.

“Yep, they’re some of the best ingredients; thanks for getting them. Only, how did you get so much stuff here?”

“The people at Blizzard Hype let me use something called a ‘sled’ that I could put everything on. They said it had some slight magic that made it really easy to pull despite all the stuff.”

“Well you've had a busy day already,” I say.

“Yeah, but we still need to get a couch! Speaking of which, could you sleep last night? Were you at least a little comfortable?”

Despite the memories that flash in my head, I dismiss them without a thought. They're something that he of all people shouldn't have to worry about. “Yep, it was almost as good as a mattress.” 

He sighs with relief, “Okay, but we're still-"

“I know, I know,” I put up my hands.

He smiles at my willingness to agree, glad that he got his way even though I'm the one benefitting from it. 

“Now how do I become a pancake master?” he asks.

I smile and turn to the stove, glad that he turned the heat off earlier. “The thing about cooking pancakes is temperature control. You never want the heat on high when you’ve got batter in the pan, otherwise the outside will cook too fast and the inside will stay gooey.”

I search for a new pan and he grabs me one from a cabinet under the counter.

“You also want your pan to be slick so the batter doesn’t stick to it; the best ways to grease it are using butter or cooking spray.”

I grab a stick of butter from the top cabinet and dab a small bit onto the pan, turning the heat on medium. The knob clicks a few times before blue flames appear. Thankfully we don’t need fire magic to turn this on; maybe Asgore’s is designed that way simply because he can while most monsters have a normal stove.

“I feel like I should be taking notes,” Papyrus says anxiously, trying to keep track of everything I say.

“It’s pretty simple once you get the hang of it. Don’t worry, once you practice a few times, everything you make will be perfect!”

Papyrus doesn’t seem to be fully convinced, but his smile says he’s willing to believe. I hope it means my encouragement can be enough.

***

Of the half-full bowl of batter we have left, we end up making six decently sized pancakes, cooked nearly to perfection. By the fourth pancake, Papyrus seems to grasp the concept, allowing me to heat up a small bottle of maple syrup he’d bought. Since there’s no microwave, I end up heating the syrup in a pot, making sure to stir it the whole time.

Whether from noise or the scent of food, Sans finally comes downstairs by the time we’re ready to eat.

“Oh good morning sir, your breakfast awaits,” I say, extending a hand to where his plate sits on the high table, moved back to its spot against the green wall.

He squints at me like he doesn’t know who I am before rolling his eyes and taking a seat at the table. Papyrus also remembered to buy two high chairs, and while they’re not identical to the original, the designs are pretty close.

“I guess I missed a whole adventure this morning?” Sans asks, doing a poor job at hiding his disappointment.

“I did, too. Perhaps a certain cool dude can tell us all about it?” I ask, raising my voice to Papyrus in the kitchen.

He laughs, “Certainly, although it’s not very dramatic.”

“Ah, not very  _ dramatic _ ,” I say, emphasizing the word and turning to Sans. His disappointment is linked to the same fear I have: that someone will crush Papyrus’ spirit if he’s alone. However, he was fine today, which means it’s nothing for Sans to feel bad about.

“It’s not just that,” Sans murmurs to me, as if he can read my thoughts. Thankfully, Papyrus is too preoccupied with searching for glasses to fill with orange juice.

“What then?” I ask just as quietly.

“You wouldn’t have happened to be  _ visited _ by anyone last night, were you?”

I keep my expression blank, “Why do you ask?”

“Because they gloated to me about how much fun it was to finally meet us.”

“In person?”

“No, I could tell it was a dream, but it felt  _ very _ real.” 

I lean back in my chair, wondering what the creature could hope to gain by gloating. How much does it already know about us? And where did it get that information?

“If something happened then you need to tell me. It’s better if we figure it out together,” he says forcefully.

“Alright, later,” I agree as Papyrus enters the room to place the glasses on the table. “So tell us all about this morning,” I say excitedly, casting aside my sudden spike in anxiety at what the creature might have said to Sans.

***

After breakfast, we head for Blizzard Hype, and I immediately regret wearing a T-shirt. I’ll admit it was a stupid decision, but I’m too self-conscious to wear the same sweater two days in a row. 

I try to keep from shivering by tightly hugging myself, but the boys notice how cold I am all too quickly.

“Why don’t we go back so you can get that sweater? You’re freezing,” Papyrus says.

“It’s fine, I’ll get a jacket at Blizzard Hype,” I say.

“Yeah, if you don’t freeze before we get there,” Sans says with an unconvinced squint.

“I’ve survived worse,” I respond casually before realizing how true that phrase is.

Papyrus doesn’t pick up on the implication, but I get a side glance from Sans. I guess that’s another thing he’ll want to talk about later.

When we get to the store, Papyrus leads us straight to the first section filled with winter clothes.

“Don’t think about the prices; just get whatever’s warm and comfy,” he lectures me. 

“Alright,” I say and head to what seems to be the women’s section.

I haven’t truly gone clothes shopping in almost a decade. I’m used to choosing the cheapest stuff with no care about style or comfort. I don’t know if that will make my choices easier or more difficult.

The first rack I encounter already entices me with an abundance of different colored sweatshirts. They don’t have hoods or pockets, but the dense material they’re made out of certainly puts them under that name. I grab one of each color: black, dark purple, blue, magenta, and sunny yellow. Even though they’re the smallest size, I can already tell they’ll be fairly large on me. I’ll have to find a fitting room just to see how big they’ll be.

The next rack is filled with tighter fitting long-sleeve shirts meant to hug my figure, making my mouth twist to the side at the sight of them. I don’t have much of a figure considering I’m still working on just looking healthy again, but I guess it couldn’t hurt to have some shirts that fit nicely. I grab a white one with cherries scattered all over it in a seemingly random pattern, revealing a dark purple shirt with pears hiding behind it. I gasp and snatch up the pear shirt, glad that it looks to be about my size. I also grab a blue shirt with pink roses and a green one with rose gold leaves.

I spot an enclosed fitting room in the middle of the women’s section and look behind me for where the boys might be. I don’t want them to freak out by disappearing, even if it’ll only be for a couple minutes.

I hear Papyrus before I even see them as I wander into the men’s section.

“You can’t just buy a pack of white shirts and call it a day! You need variety!” Papyrus scolds Sans.

“Eh, but it’s less complicated  _ and _ cheaper. I know Krista will be happy,” Sans responds in a tone that I’m sure is accompanied by a cheeky grin.

“Yeah, but I might break the bank with all this,” I say walking up to them.

Papyrus smiles, “See? Krista’s willing to get different styles, and she’s the one who doesn’t want to spend any money.”

“Well, they’re technically not different styles; it’s just that the colors and designs vary.”

“Still, it’s a better effort than what Sans is doing!” 

“Okay, how about I grab a pack of blue shirts, too? Will that help?” Sans asks, raising an eye socket.

Papyrus takes a deep breath, and I cut in before the argument continues, “I’m just letting you know that I’m going to try these on before finding a jacket. Try not to fight in the meantime.”

“No prob’,” Sans says with a wink and Papyrus turns away, grumbling.

I smirk and find my way to the fitting room, stopping just outside it when a rack of camisoles catch my attention. I’ve seen girls wear them in the summer, and while I would never wear one on its own, it wouldn’t be a bad undershirt. I grab two black and a white one before entering the empty room.

I try a sweatshirt on first, happy to find that it fits about the same as Chara’s sweaters have. Surprisingly, I think I actually look best in the yellow one; it makes my eyes stand out. I try on a camisole next, a little surprised by how tight it feels. Then again, I’ve worn loose shirts for almost my entire life. It’s a little long, ending right at my hips, but overall, it’s a nice fit. The pear shirt is next, and I can’t help my broad smile at how perfect it is. I try on every other one too, admiring how nice they look. Maybe my tastes are just too darn simple, but I love every shirt despite its simplicity. The styles are identical with neckline that is just barely above my collarbones and sleeves that reach my knuckles.

Wearing them gives me a confidence I never realized I could have with clothes. I’ve never been ashamed of wearing cheap shirts, but I chose them out of necessity rather than for me. As much as I’ve loved seeing nice clothes, I’ve always known it’s not worth it to get them. Saving money was the biggest factor, but there was also this feeling that I wasn’t worth that kind of price. I always admired those girls who proudly wore the designs they loved; their confidence told me they were definitely worthy of what they had. I don’t think I’ve ever done something nice for myself simply because I think I deserve it.

And here I am now, with the chance to get what I want without anything holding me back. But I still feel bad about getting so much. The gold coins in my pocket feel like stolen money the more I think about it. This is all too much at once. I truly don’t deserve all this. I’m glad my self-control is keeping me in check or else I would’ve made the mistake of getting more than I need. Really, I can make the T-shirts last longer. Sure they’re thin and scratchy, and the thread is unraveling at their hems, but they’re still useable.

I leave the room and walk back to where I found them, reminding myself the whole time that this is for the best. I’m about to put the sweatshirts back when Sans’ voice stops me.

“Are you telling me none of them fit?”

I sigh, spotting him leaning against a tall mirror a few steps away.

“No, they’re actually perfect. But…”

“Don’t tell me they’re too expensive because  _ seriously _ , I will pay for them.”

“It’s not that. It’s just… I don’t deserve something so nice.”

He takes a deep breath and briefly rubs his forehead, “I’m going to give you another try so you can offer me a  _ legitimate _ reason.”

“That’s not good enough?”

“ _ No _ .”

“Well… it makes sense to me.”

“Okay,” he says starting to approach me, “I haven’t made this clear so let me explain.”

He stops in front of me and snatches a shirt away with every word. “You  _ are _ worth it. If you always doubt yourself, then they win.”

“Really?” I ask, crossing my now empty arms. 

He laughs humorlessly, “He told me my whole life that I was weak, that I was nothing more than a tool to use against my brother. If I still believed that, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“But you’re  _ you _ ; of course you’re better than his lies.”

“And you’re not?” he asks and I swear I see a glimmer of blue in his left eye.

“It’s not just his words that remain,” I say, remembering more of my father’s than Gaster’s.

“Then it’s like I said: they’re still controlling you, manipulating you into thinking your existence has no value. If I agreed with them, I would’ve tried to get rid of you a long time ago.”

I look away, fully believing every word but unsure of how to change my mindset.

He sighs, “Sure, I doubt myself too, but you can’t  _ seriously _ believe them so strongly that you think you’re not worth a few shirts.”

“What if I do?” I ask, meeting his eyes.

“Then I guess I’ll have to prove them wrong.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“You’ll see,” he says, a sudden grin spreading. He shoves the shirts back into my arms and grabs my wrist, leading me into a different section. “In the meantime, I have some jackets to show you.”

I see Papyrus in the area Sans leads me to, analyzing two different styles of coats.

“Which one do you think is better?” he asks, holding up a light orange fleece jacket and a deep red raincoat. Or at least, it looks like a raincoat. While the orange one doesn’t have a hood, it looks to be much warmer.

“I think the orange one,” I say and Sans laughs.

“See, I told you that one is better.”

“Alright, but I wanted a second opinion,” Papyrus says, putting the red coat back.

“Did you find something you like?” I ask Sans.

“I did happen to find a jewel hiding near the back.”

He leads me over to where Papyrus was standing, and I see a cart filled with the numerous items they’ve gotten so far. He grabs a light blue cotton jacket with a hood colored gray on the inside.

“It doesn’t seem to be too warm,” I say, rubbing the sleeve between my fingers, “but I guess that doesn’t matter much.”

“For a guy who doesn’t get cold easily, I think it’s perfect. Which is why I’m curious to see what you’ll find. They don’t seem to pride themselves on heavy duty jackets despite this being a store with ‘blizzard’ in its name.”

“Let’s just see what we can find,” I say, placing my shirts in the cart. If I hold them much longer, I might rethink my decision to listen to Sans.

Papyrus catches up to us, suggesting various jackets we pass, but I turn them down. If I’m going to live here, then I need something that’s going to keep me warm outside for at least a couple hours. Most of the coats seem to be designed for fall weather or are so impressive design-wise that they unintentionally lack warmth.

It’s only when we nearly reach the end of the section that I find them, the coats meant for a cold-natured little human. My eyes widen and I pick the first one I see to admire its design. 

The outside material is canvas with a polyester lining, complete with a hood trimmed inside and outside with thick, white faux fur. I put the coat on to find it reaches just above my knees and the sleeves cut off at the base of my thumbs. While there is a zipper, there are also buttons to snap extra material over it. The feature might not seem like much to help against the cold, but I think it’s a nice addition. The two pockets on either side of my hips are fairly deep, enough that even my wrists can be protected in them.

“Whattaya think?” I ask the boys, flipping the hood on and smiling when the fur covers my eyes.

“Ooo, I think it’s great!” Papyrus exclaims. “You’ll definitely stay warm with that on!”

“It looks a lot different from all the others. What kind of coat is it?” Sans asks.

“Uh,” I find the tag and want to smack myself for forgetting the coat’s name. I like to think I’m pretty good at naming materials since my mom loved explaining the different types to me. However, I seem to have trouble forgetting what the products they compose are called. “It’s a parka.”

“Huh, so are you going with that color?”

I finally realize the coat is blood red, and my mouth twists to the side as I shrug it off. I can’t look at this color every day.

“No, I’m going with...” my eyes scan the others, finding mustard yellow, charcoal gray, onyx black, and green. But not just any green, dark green, like a mixture of shadowed pine needles and emerald gems. There isn’t a hint of blue that could make it look teal, and it is impossible to associate it with the light Mable’s eyes had. This is its own form of the color, and besides my sister’s SOUL, this is the best shade of green to ever exist.

“Remember when I said I like the type of green that reminds me of home?” I ask Sans.

“Yeah.”

“Well this is it,” I grab the only coat in the color that’s my size and hold it close.

“So you lived near forests?” Papyrus asks.

“Yeah, so I guess Snowdin is the perfect place in the Underground for me to stay. It’s the only area that’s most similar to my old home.”

“That house really was meant for us; it’s like whoever built it knew that someday, the right people were going to find it when they needed it most,” Papyrus says with a smile, turning away to push the cart.

Sans raises an eye socket as if to ask if I feel the same way and I shrug. I’m not so sure anymore if our circumstances are simply convenient or if someone has an influence over where we’ve ended up. After last night, it’s getting harder to deny that the latter may be the more likely possibility.


	21. City Strangers

We spend another hour in the store getting various items for the house, mostly cleaning supplies and soap at my demand and of course, the couch. It takes all of a minute for me to find one we can agree on, immediately liking a plush, dark blue three-cushion that can comfortably fit four people. With Sans not caring about style, and Papyrus just wanting to make sure I’ll be comfortable sleeping on it, the decision is quick. 

Then Sans suggests we get other winter related items after hearing people chatter about an upcoming “cold snap” in which the temperature drops into the negatives. To my surprise, Sans’ idea of getting good protection from the cold is a pair of white slippers and about forty sets of socks. Papyrus grabs a bright strawberry red scarf with matching boots and mittens. Despite my hesitation with the shirts, I will admit that the fur- lined black boots I find are too tempting to pass up. Sans seems pretty proud, especially when I’m not ashamed to admit how much I love the ribbons woven into the sides. I also grab some wool socks and black gloves, knowing my fingers and toes will be the most difficult to keep warm. I try to ignore the cost of everything we buy, but it still hurts to put four 500G coins on the counter next to the boys’ contributions.

Once we get everything back to the house (thanks to Blizzard Hype’s magic anti-snow sleds that we immediately return), I suggest we move the old couch into the shed. Since we don’t know of a place to get rid of it, we might as well put the extra room to use. The move is surprisingly easy and we place the old couch against the right wall in the shed. I make sure to lock it up even though I doubt anyone would care to look inside. It’s just a nice piece of mind for me, and I place the shed’s green key in a kitchen drawer.

We spend the rest of the day working on painting the orange wall, finishing a coat and a half before turning in for the night. Comfy in the yellow sweatshirt and blue pajama pants I bought today, I snuggle under my blanket on the couch. I’m grateful that the light of the Ceiling Stars illuminates the room through the windows. I guess I can now shamefully admit that I’m afraid of the dark or rather what chooses to hide in it and wait to attack me.  

It’s not long until I fall asleep, and it’s not any sooner that someone wakes me up with a few shakes to my shoulder.

“Hmm, yeah?” I ask whoever it is.

“Sorry, but this is the only way we can have a talk without involving him,” Sans says, only sounding slightly sorry.

I sigh; he really is persistent when he wants to be. I push myself up and rub my eyes, “It’s fine, so what do you want to address first?”

“Whatever that creature was. Do you have any clue as to how it showed up?”

I pat the cushion in front of me despite how much my instincts tell me to keep it to myself. He’s my  _ brother _ , as weird as that mentality still seems, but the sooner I accept it, the easier life will be. I could refuse and leave this situation altogether if I want, but that’s the selfish route. And frankly, it’s also the loneliest one. I don’t have to think too long to realize I truly want to be part of their family. Not only because I know their pasts better than anyone, but because I truly care about them. 

“Have a seat,” I say and explain everything that happened, from that strange feeling to the photo album to the machine and finally the creature. He interrupts me a few times to ask questions I can’t answer, the same questions I’ve been asking myself since last night.

“So what did it say to you? How real do you think it was?” I ask.

“Well, I felt like I was locked in a room with it in my dream. As much as I wanted to get out, there was nothing but darkness. The creature said it was thrilled to meet us since it had heard so much from its ‘leader.’ It said meeting us in person made the ‘game’ all the more real. I think it just enjoyed having control over the situation since I doubt its ‘leader’ is a benevolent power-sharer. I woke up once it left, and I’ll admit, I was a little scared it had done something to either of you.”  
I try to figure out the creature’s vague hints, “But do you think it’s including Papyrus? Or do you think it just meant you and me?”

“I’m not sure. Papyrus would have told me if he had a strange dream, so I’m guessing the creature only meant the two of us.”

“But why  _ us _ ?” I ask.

“Is it possible… because we remember?” he asks, his voice hushed.

My throat tightens at the thought that any of this could be linked to Gaster. “No, he’s  _ gone _ . There must be someone else.”

“And who would that be?”

I sigh, realizing just how much more information I’ll have to reveal. But I shove my fears aside and explain all that I know about Chara, despite the fact that he knows some of it. But he patiently listens as I lead up to my two encounters with her. Getting the easy information out helps me, but it’s still brutal to explain my personal interactions with her.

His expression softens when I explain what she did to my arm, but I push through the story without pausing, refusing to get hung up on details that will drag me back down to that cold, dark lab. 

“So you think she could be influencing this?” he asks, considering my words.

“There’s no one else,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster.

“If that’s true, then what could she hope to gain by taunting us?”

“I don’t know, which I guess tells you that I don’t have very concrete reasoning. But what I can guess is that she’s not the Chara that the royal family adopted all those years ago. I think something happened when the prince absorbed her SOUL. Maybe there were traces of her left in him when he died, and somehow those traces got trapped in whatever that ‘room’ was that she mentioned.”

“Hmm, well considering how little information we have, you’ve got a good theory. I’m willing to believe it.”

“Well, if you have any other ideas-”

He holds up a hand, “No, I like it. I guess the best we can do is improve our magic and hope we can figure out how to defend ourselves in our sleep.”

“Until we find any more clues, I guess so. However, I’m not gonna poke around in that hidden room; something tells me she has some sort of special control over it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t touch it. But besides all that, let’s try to focus on what’s really important.”

“What do you mean?” 

Sans rolls his eyes and gestures to the rest of the house and the town outside, “ _ This _ . Enjoying our home, our freedom. A lot of my memories are still fuzzy, but the more I remember, the more I appreciate all that we have now.”

I’m not sure if I should ask, but after telling him so much, my curiosity gets the best of me. “What do you remember?”

The lights in his eyes fade a bit and I immediately regret asking. “I mean, you don’t have to-”

He shakes his head, “No, I want to tell you.”

And so he does, and each detail becomes more horrific than the next. Sure Gaster was condescending and sometimes cruel to me, but what he did to these boys… it’s beyond anything I experienced. Maybe it’s because my father had already done most of the work in traumatizing me.

From what Sans remembers, things weren’t so bad when they were little, but everything changed when Gaster drilled those plates into them. The tests increased, especially ones focused on making them see visions of the future. Sans assumes they were linked to increasing their powers, but Gaster rarely ever explained his reasons so there’s no telling what their purpose was. One test in particular went wrong, and it’s how Sans thinks he lost the ability to glow in his right eye. 

“It also uh, killed my vision,” he mutters so softly I barely hear him.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m blind in my right eye.”

It hits me like a punch to the throat, a truth he’s hidden so well that I would have never guessed.

“What? But… you don’t seem to have any trouble- I mean I never noticed-” I cut myself off, utterly useless in trying to say some form of consolation.

“It’s okay. I think my magic helps me keep some awareness of what’s to my right. But overall,” he waves his fingers near the corner of his eye, “there’s nothing.”

“So the light your eye has…?”

“Artificial. It keeps some form of normalcy, makes the weakness easier to hide.”

“Sans, I-”

“I get it. At least you not noticing tells me that I do a good job at hiding it,” he winks, but I don’t smile. He sighs, “There’s still more to tell.”

Sans’ hatred for Gaster made him the more rebellious one and because of his “condition,” the scientist punished Papyrus. One of Sans’ most vivid memories was when Gaster broke Papyrus’ arm with no effort and no remorse. Another was when he controlled Papyrus with blue magic and threw him against the walls, ensuring several bones were broken. Sans doesn’t remember the reason for the first one, but the second was when they were learning blue magic on their own. He guesses that Gaster feared they would team up against him, suggesting he actually believed they could’ve overpowered him.

“I guess that’s why Papyrus was so intimidated by the idea of using blue magic,” I say uselessly, hating that I dragged so much information out of Sans, making him relive the horrors.

“Yep,” Sans sighs, “which shows that what he did had a lasting impact, with or without memories.”

“At least Papyrus doesn’t have those memories anymore… and I wish you didn’t either.”

Sans smirks, “And let me guess, you’re completely fine with remembering it all?”

“Well can you imagine how freaked out I would’ve been if I woke up in the Core with my last memory being a death jump? That would’ve been worse than waking up in the lab. Besides, I would’ve forgotten monsters were real and that I had magic and how to communicate with you guys.”

“That’s a lot of good points, but does that really make the pain worth it?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

He stares at me for a couple seconds, “It’s like with your sister, you never care if it’s  _ you _ who pays the price, but when it comes to someone else, they don’t deserve it.”

“So what if I think that way?” I ask defensively.

“Well, I just think that someone should pay the price for you sometime, if only because you’ve earned it.”

“I haven’t earned anything except-”

He points a finger at me, “If you finish that sentence with what I  _ know _ you’re going to say, I swear I will throw you out in the snow.”

Despite how threatening his tone is, I smile at the challenge. “Oh really? And why is it such a big deal if I do say it?”

“Then you shouldn’t keep living if you think all you deserve is pain.” My smirk drops at his tone, replaced with guilt. “ _ I _ of all people hate myself for the countless times I’ve failed my brother, yet he’s always believed in me, even through the worst days. So stop telling yourself that you’re not worth the money to buy new clothes or the time to talk to. You matter to Papyrus, you matter to Asgore, and you matter to  _ me _ . There is no one else in the Underground who would’ve understood if I talked to them about my memories, and because of you, I don’t have to be scared or confused. Krista, you have no idea how grateful I am that you’re here, that you care, that despite everything that’s happened, you’re still living because you  _ know _ there’s a future worth finding. So just  _ stop _ reminding yourself of your faults or what others have told you. We’re here now, and we’ve earned happiness. No matter what’s in store, we deserve to be happy, even if it’s only for a moment, okay?”

I’m not sure when the tears started, but I can’t even see him now as I rub my eyes. 

“You’re right,” I whisper, “I’ve believed for years that I don’t matter and that I don’t deserve happiness. I’ve been lying to myself... because it’s easier to think I’ll die tomorrow than hope that there’s even a chance I’ll have a reason to smile. To be honest, I really don’t know what’s kept me going since my sister died. But thank  _ you _ for caring... because I’m not sure how much longer I could’ve gone alone.”

He smiles and pulls me into a hug, making me realize he has a surprising amount of warmth considering what he is. But it just makes the embrace all the more comforting.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever truly forget the lies or disregard them as partial truths, but... for once, I can selfishly say that this happiness feels damn well deserved. 

***

By Saturday, we finish painting the entire house, including the kitchen and the boys’ room. When we had finished painting the main room, seeing the old color left in other parts of the house seemed wrong, so we changed the kitchen to green and the bigger room to orange. Since the “storage closet” is too crammed, we decided to leave it as is, although Sans suggested cleaning the room out at some point. It didn’t help that we were dumping the painting supplies in there along with everything else.

Once the kitchen was dry, I hung up my calendar in the corner above the trash can with a screw I found in the small room. I’ve kinda missed seeing the days laid out, even if they’re empty for me to do whatever I want. The discussion I had with Sans was on the night of the fifth, and I mark out the days to today, the eighth of July. And to think, if I was on the Surface, it would be sweltering heat outside, but like all days here in Snowdin, it’s a cool twenty-two degrees.

We haven’t gotten out much since our last trip to Blizzard Hype, and now that the house is complete, we can finally get to truly see this area of the Underground.

I wait outside for the boys, munching on a pear in my zipped up parka and fuzzy boots. Even though no one can see it, I think it’s kinda funny that I’m wearing my pear shirt. It’s a very lame coincidence that only Sans would smirk at.

I don’t know what it is, but I feel an immense amount of confidence and independence standing here, out in the open, with no one watching me. Not only that, but I’m wearing warm, stylish clothes that are  _ mine _ . They’re not hand-me-downs and they weren’t chosen out of cheap necessity, but rather they’re normal clothes a girl like me wears, and she can afford them.

I bite my lip at the word “afford,” reminding myself that I better start looking for a job sometime soon. Despite how much I’ve enjoyed the luxuries of the past few days, with the relaxation of painting and our handful of attempts at baking, I need to get serious about finding a source of income.

A swift breeze kicks up the powdery snow and I throw my hood on, glad that I caved and bought new jeans at Blizzard Hype as the cold barely cuts through them. As much as I didn’t want to, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. With how close the boots hug my legs, it was difficult just to try them on in the store with my old, bulky jeans. So I got three new pairs that are considerably tighter in comparison, but they’re just loose enough that they don’t accentuate much. 

To my surprise, a sales associate threw in a free pair of black leggings for me to take as a bonus, insisting that they’re the newest in a line of cold-resistant, close-fitting wear. In a world with magic, I can find that claim to be more believable, but I’m going to avoid wearing them for a while. Maybe if I’m doing some intense magic training or if I go for a run, but other than that, I’ll stick with the jeans.

While I haven’t slept in the attic since that first night, I’d still consider it “my room” as I’ve placed all my clothes in the dresser drawers and tucked my duffel bag next to it. I left Chara’s clothes and my books in the bag, unsure of what to do with them now that they’re technically useless. I guess I’ll figure something out eventually.

Just yesterday, we removed the boards from the attic walls, revealing the circular window at the top and the glass door that opens to the balcony. It took some magic maneuvering, but we eventually figured it out. Since we were unsure of how to get rid of the boards, we just stuck them in the shed. Now, it’s a lot nicer up there since the natural light can get in, but I don’t think I can sleep up there again when that first night is still vivid in my mind.

I finish my pear and walk back in the house, wondering what’s taking so long.

“Look boys, you’re both handsome, now let’s go!” I call, tossing the pear core in the trash.

“I’m ready, but  _ he’s _ insistent that he has to have a ‘perfect image’ because ‘first impressions are everything,’” Sans says from the couch, wearing his new favorite jacket with a white T-shirt and basketball shorts.

I put my hands on my hips, “Are you telling me you think it’s a good idea to wear  _ shorts _ in a place with permanent winter?”

“Look, it’s nearly impossible for me to get cold, and unlike you, I don’t think jeans are very comfortable,” he says, putting his hands behind his head.

I roll my eyes, “Fine, but don’t complain after an hour that you can’t feel your legs.”

“Now why would I ever complain?” he asks with a smirk.

It’s been a little difficult to talk to him ever since he told me he was blind in his right eye. I’m trying my best to ignore the fact, since knowing doesn’t change anything. But still, I feel guilty that I never noticed or even considered what not being able to glow would mean for him. I brought it up yesterday and he told me not to worry about it, but until I get accustomed to the fact, I’m always going to feel that strain of guilt. 

Papyrus bounds down the steps before triumphantly declaring, “Alright, let’s go!” with his long scarf trailing behind him like a makeshift cape. He seems to have fully ditched the bandanas now, opting to wear the scarf as often as possible. I guess that insecurity will always remain, but at least he has a confident excuse to hide the scar. Sans had stopped wearing the bandanas a couple weeks ago, and Papyrus didn’t seem to be bothered by it. I wonder if it was something they discussed.

We leave the house and I lock the door before tucking the key in my right pocket. While it may have been “abandoned” to the locals for years, I’m not taking any chances now that we’ve finally settled in.

The lightest wisps of snow begin to fall as we walk, passing the library without a glance in its direction. Maybe Copernicus is actually a nice guy and he was just having a bad day when we met him, but it’s not worth it to try and find out today.

It’s only a few more paces before we reach the side path that leads over to the river and Papyrus stops us.

“Oh! There’s this one monster over there that’s very interesting to watch. Just look,” Papyrus says, leading us to where the path widens, revealing a group of small houses on the left, the river straight ahead, and a fenced off area to the right. Within the fence is a brick structure with a cone shaped roof and a small conveyor belt leading out of it. The belt is just barely long enough to hold a giant block of ice traveling out of the structure. A bulky, dark gray, wolf-looking monster stands at the end and swiftly picks up the cube and throws it into the river behind him. He turns back to the conveyor and waits a couple seconds before repeating the process just as smoothly.

“Quite mesmerizing, isn’t it?” Papyrus asks.

“I guess, but why didn’t someone just make the conveyor longer?” I ask in a hushed voice.

“Because then he’d be out of a job,” Sans says.

“There’s gotta be something else he’d want to do rather than this,” I respond.

“You know my ears work  _ really _ well,” the wolf says in a deep voice.

My throat tightens and I immediately try to think of an apology, but he continues without a single pause in his work. “Sure I’d like to do other things, I’ve always wanted to be part of the Royal Guard, but that hasn’t worked out. It’s a dream for the future, but for now, this puts food on the table. And I’m helping the Core stay cool.”

My eyebrow twitches up for a split second as I remember seeing those ice cubes when we traveled through Waterfall, and before that, I remember seeing them melt into that shimmering liquid in the Core. Is this honestly the best system they could come up with in cooling their power source? Where is the ice even coming from in which it’s cut in such perfect cubes? I really shouldn’t question this kind of stuff at this point; I doubt even a full explanation could make me accept that it makes sense.

“Well then I hope you can achieve your dream someday,” I say, waving goodbye and heading back to the main road.

“Same here,” he mutters, chucking the next cube with more effort than before.

“I’m sure he will,” Papyrus says when we’re back at the point where the road splits.

“Although, he definitely is very good at his current job, that repetition really is mesmerizing,” I say.

“I think it’s better than watching TV,” Sans says with a smirk as we reach a bright yellow building on the right. A sign that says “ _ Grillby’s _ ” in bold letters stretches the length of the building, with an  _ Open _ sign in its bay window.

“What kind of place is this?” Papyrus asks.

“I think it’s a restaurant,” I say, trying to peer into the window, but yellow curtains conceal whatever the inside looks like.

“Aw yeah, Grillby’s is the best place to eat within a five yard radius of here,” a brown bear in an orange sports coat says, leaning against the building. “Competition’s pretty tight so I can’t give you all the details. You’ll just have to try every place for yourselves. After all, thaaaaaat’s business!”

The boys and I share confused looks before I give the bear a weak thumbs-up, “Thanks?”

“No prob’,” he says closing his eyes, as if that was all the work he had to do today.

With quick glances, the boys and I silently agree that we’ll check out the restaurant later, and we walk by a single blue spruce tree in the middle of the path where a light gray bear kneels next to it.

“What’s so special about this tree that it gets to stand on its own?” Sans asks nobody. I wonder if he only asks because he knows I would’ve at some point.

“It was planted here centuries ago when the tradition began to decorate trees and put gifts underneath them,” the bear says.

I raise an eyebrow, remembering this exact tree is in the last picture in my calendar, only this one is completely undecorated, “What started that?”

“After these awful teens tormented a monster by decorating his tree-like horns, we started giving him presents to make him feel better. Now it’s become part of the holiday season every December. Gyftmas is the biggest day of the year, but we start decorating in the middle of November, and we keep the decorations up until the end of March. This tree is the town’s daily reminder that Gyftmas is always around the corner, and I never stop getting excited for when we decorate it.”

My mouth twists to the side, finding the bear’s explanation for the tradition to be a bit ludicrous. It’s too similar to Christmas for there to be a coincidence. Maybe the monsters want to think it was entirely born out of their ideals rather than consider that it was a human who brought them a tradition they now hold dear.

“You three must be new to Snowdin; I’ve heard Gyftmas isn’t as big of a deal in New Home City. But still, how could you forget the origins of such a monumental holiday?” the bear squints at us.

“Sorry, we’re just so busy in the city that we forget the importance of traditions and their meanings,” I say smoothly.

“Huh, well I hope they’ll stick now that you live here,” the bear says before standing up and walking towards Grillby’s. I can’t help but feel that he’s disgusted by us for asking about something he believes everyone should treasure just as much as he does.

“I guess we’re gonna be outcasts for a while if they all believe we’re from the city,” Sans says.

“It’s technically not a lie,” I say.

“I know, but they’ll probably see us as ‘big city invaders messing up their small town community.’”

“Don’t worry! They’ll accept us soon enough, especially since  _ I’m _ here,” Papyrus says proudly.

“I don’t doubt that,” I say as we pass a single small house. It has the same design as the ones I saw earlier, with a round door and two circular windows on the front. In comparison, our house is like a mansion while they’re about the size of the shed, which makes me wonder even more why people didn’t question its supposed “abandonment.” 

Just before the next group of buildings, I spot an igloo that’s the same size as the one I saw next to the shed. There’s a little sign to the right of it that reads: ( _ Don’t want to walk to the other side of town? Try the undersnow tunnels! They’re efficiently laid out.) _

“We’ll have to check that out when we come back,” I say, pointing to the sign.

“Trying to avoid people?” Sans asks with a wink.

I roll my eyes, “No, I just want to see how the tunnels work.”

We pass what is definitely the largest building in town as it looks like two houses nearly the size of ours connected by a small one in the middle. The house on the left says  _ Shop _ and the one on the right says  _ Inn _ above their respective doors. They’re painted a bright yellow-orange with similar colored lighting illuminating the windows.

“Later?” Sans asks.

“Yeah, we don’t have to see everything today,” I respond.

“I’ve already been in there; the owner is actually the one who gave me the pancake recipe. She said her sister runs the inn,” Papyrus says.

“So you went in there but you didn’t check out Grillby’s?” I ask.

“I didn’t want to explore everything on my own. Besides, I know what a shop consists of, but I didn’t know what a place called Grillby’s would be like.”

“Fair enough.”

We pass a long wooden sign that reads  _ Welcome To Snowdin _ with  _ Welcome To _ in red letters and  _ Snowdin _ in light blue. Two dark green flowers are planted on either side of it like sentries.

“How can these stand this weather?” I ask, crouching near the left flower. The petals are scraggly and sharp, almost like oversized pine needles. The center of the flower is light gray with the same color of leaves sprouting from the stem.

Sans waves his fingers in front of my face and says, “Magic.”

I smirk and leave the flower behind, turning to face a long bridge where the path ends a few yards away. Amazingly, I see a rope secured on either side. I wonder if precautions are only required once the possibility of death is too obvious.

The bridge is so narrow that we have to walk in single file, but at least it’s sturdy and the rope is high enough that it reaches my ribs. The sight below is absolutely gorgeous, and it’s only when we’re halfway across that I realize I’ve seen it before.

I stop and look out to admire a frozen lake with a tiny island of pine trees near its center. That’s the picture for February on my calendar.

I don’t know why the sight nearly brings me to tears. Maybe because I never expected I’d actually get to see such a beautiful sight in person. Or maybe because it makes me realize just how far I’ve come.

“What are you overthinking now?” Sans asks as he and Papyrus walk back to me.

I smirk, “Actually, I’m not, for once.”

“Then what’s the hold-up?”

“Can’t I enjoy the view?”

He looks out and I see a hint of awe on his face, as if he just noticed the sight. It wouldn’t surprise me since it was on his right side.

“I never thought I’d see it,” I say softly.

“Why?” Papyrus asks.

“There’s a picture of it on the calendar. I stared at it for a long time, but I never imagined I’d actually get here.”

He smiles, “But you did! And now you can see it whenever you want!”

“And that’s the best part,” I say, almost sad that he doesn’t know just how meaningful this freedom is.

***

Snowdin is a lot like Waterfall in that it seems to keep a consistent set path, but it takes numerous twists and turns along the way. Just after the bridge, the path shifts down to the left and widens where numerous piles of snow sit. I lightly kick at one and it seems to be as frozen as ice. I guess someone made them a long time ago. In the upper right center of the area, a small dog house sits undisturbed. A sign next to it simply reads  _ Woof _ . I smile at the thought that normal dogs live down here. I’ve always had a love for animals, but my parents never got one despite how often I begged for a pet. In hindsight, it was for the best, but still, that wish lingers.

“Do you think dogs live around here?” I ask, still looking at the sign.

“One hundred percent,” Sans says, his voice a bit hollow. 

“I wonder where they a-”

I turn around and my voice cuts off at the sight of a towering armored knight with a long spear in its hand. My eyes drift up to its head to find the face of a white dog with a little smile.

“Hello!” Papyrus says to the dog.

Its tail wags and the dog drops its spear, placing its paws on the ground in a playful bow.

“Oh my gosh! Hi, puppy,” I say to the dog, crouching near it, hoping being friendly is the best course of action.

“Uh, do you think that’s a good idea?” Sans asks.

“Of course it is,” I say, waving him away and holding my hand out to the dog.

The dog’s tail wags faster and he inches forward for me to pet his head.

“Aw, hi buddy,” I say, stroking the soft fur. The dog barks and I gather some snow into a ball.

“Will you fetch?” I ask.

The dog practically leaps out of his armor to get the snow and I throw it. He crashes through one of the mounds of snow before bringing back all the snow he can gather in his mouth.

“Aw, you’re so good!” I say, petting his head as he drops the pile of snow on my boots. The dog nudges me for more pets and I wave the boys forward. “Come here, he won’t bite.”

Papyrus seems more eager than Sans, but he eventually kneels down and pets the dog.

“See? No worries,” I say, giving the dog a good scratch behind his pointy ears.

Sans smiles, “Of all the things you freak out about and a dog doesn’t bother you in the slightest.”

“No way, I used to pet sit a few years ago. When you spend a lot of time with them, not even one in armor is scary.”

As if he understands, the dog leaps out of his armor and jumps up to give me a lick on the nose. I laugh and he jumps back into his armor before walking off to town.

“He seemed to really like us,” Papyrus says cheerfully.

“Yeah, most dogs are really friendly, even ones that carry spears,” I say as if I see dogs like that every day.

“Then I wouldn’t mind meeting more,” Sans says, giving me one of his genuine smiles.

The path branches off with a left turn that we find leads to a dead end. At least it’s a dead end with another gorgeous sight of the forest below. There’s a small clearing very similar to the frozen lake, only there’s a single house built on it, leading me to believe this area is not a lake. Puffs of smoke drift out of the house’s chimney, and its windows are warm with yellow light. I can only wonder though, why whoever that monster is, would want to live so far from society. 

There’s also an entrance in the right wall that leads to a hidden room with the same grass and mushrooms that Waterfall has. A single door composes the room with the Delta Rune symbol on it, but there’s no handle to open it. There’s another mystery to tack onto my extremely long list of questions. 

We head back up to find the next section completely covered with ice, surrounded by towering, dark trees. They’re unlike all the others I’ve seen so far. While most of Snowdin seems to be composed of pines, spruces, and furs, these are hundreds of feet tall without any traces of leaves.

“Well this isn’t very safe,” I say, tapping the ice with my foot.

“Just walk  _ really _ slow; I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Papyrus says.

“If you say so,” I respond, not very confident.

I’m fine for the first two feet, but then I feel a slip coming, and I  _ know _ I’m seconds away from falling. For some ridiculous reason, I giggle. Looks like I’m going down.

At least the preparation helps, and I end up falling on my side rather than completely back and hitting my head.

“You okay?” Sans asks, slightly laughing himself.

“Yep,” I say with a thumbs-up, deciding it’s best to sort of crawl the rest of the way.

Papyrus rolls his eyes and walks back to me, grabbing my arm to pull me up.

“I can do it,” I say, only slightly defensive.

“I don’t think you can,” he says, raising an eye socket.

His suspicion makes me smile and I admit, “Alright, I can’t.”

“And that’s why you have a very cool brother to help,” he says proudly.

“Yes I do,” I say with as much sincerity. Because, really, I’m starting to believe the dude has an immunity to the slippery powers of ice. That’s a winner right there.

We make it to the other side where there’s only a small patch of snow before even more ice. I slip a couple times, but Papyrus keeps me from falling.

“How are you guys so good at this?” I ask when we finally reach snow again.

Sans waves his hands around, “Magic.”

I roll my eyes, “No it isn’t.”

“No, but that’s the explanation I’m giving you when you ask eight million questions we can’t answer.”

I laugh, “Papyrus, do you know?”

“I honestly don’t, but what does it matter when you’ll always have us to make sure you won’t fall?”

“That’s true,” I say, accepting the fact.

We pass another dog house, but it’s much larger than the one before. However, this time, there’s no dog in sight.

We keep walking for a while, passing over two short bridges and making a few turns as the path shifts to the right. When we reach a third bridge, I see two dog houses to our right where the path has another dead end. The house on the left has a note that says  _ His _ and the one on the right says  _ Hers _ .

I smile at the implication, “Aw, it’s like what couples d-”

“Who are you?” a dog yells, jumping out of the  _ His _ dog house. I leap back to see a white dog in a black hoodie and sweatpants, holding a large ax. 

“What is it, hubby?” a similar-looking dog asks, lifting her head out of the  _ Her _ house. The biggest difference between them is his dark eyebrows and her extremely long eyelashes.

“Outsiders,” the male dog says, sniffing at us.

“Yes, we are from the city, but we live here now!” Papyrus says.

“The city?” the female asks, now out of her house and sniffing at us too.

“You,” the male says to me. “You’re not made of magic.”

“Uh, well,” I say, backing up, wishing I had remembered to grab the letter Asgore had written for me. Ugh, why didn’t I think of that?

The female narrows her eyes, “Which means you could only be a-”

“Oh wow! Yo, look sis, they’re Royal Guards!”

My head snaps to the left where two lizard-like monsters run towards us at full speed, one yellow and the other light pink. When they’re only a few feet away, the yellow one trips and lands on his face while the pink one slips and falls on her back.

I wince at how hard they hit the ground, but they pop right back up and run in front of us to talk to the dogs. 

“Yo, we’re huge fans of you guys!” the yellow one says excitedly. “You get to work for Undyne!”

“Yeah, yeah, which means you work for King Asgore!” the pink one says.

Based on their high voices and small statures, the two lizards are only kids. The yellow one wears a brown and yellow striped shirt with brown pants and boots. Well, it seems someone is very invested in matching. He has a short tail and four spikes in a straight line on the back of his head. The pink one, who I’m guessing is his sister, wears a pink and purple checkered shirt with lavender boots, adding a bit more color variety than her brother. She has the same short tail, but instead of four spikes, she only has one short one on the left side of her head. At first I don’t even notice the spike since it’s concealed by a bright magenta bow tied to it. 

I think the most surprising detail about them is that they don’t have any arms, making me wonder if it contributes to how easily they fell when running.

Sans nudges my arm and gestures towards the path; it’s the best opportunity to escape the suspicious dogs. I notify Papyrus, but he seems too caught up in what the kids are saying.

“Yo, that’s so cool! I wanna be part of the Royal Guard someday!” the yellow one chatters on.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s my dream too!” the girl agrees.

I grab Papyrus’ arm and drag him back to the path where we make our way over a small bridge. It’s not long before we’re out of sight, and we reach another patch of ice.

“You okay?” I ask him, holding onto his arm as we walk.

“Did you see how much they admired the dogs? All because they’re a part of the Royal Guard?” he asks.

“Yeah, but all kids admire grown-ups,” I say, not thinking much about it. I’m just grateful that the kids’ distraction was enough that the dogs let us go.

“Do you think other people admire them?”

“Probably, working for the king seems like an honorable position.”

“Who do you think is that ‘Undyne’ they mentioned?”

“Don’t tell me you’re considering joining the Royal Guard. We just got here,” I say as we pass another dog house. I think I hear the faintest snores from within the little wooden structure.

“Well, you yourself have said we should get jobs at some point,” Sans says a few steps ahead.

Papyrus’ face brightens at his-  _ our _ brother’s reasoning, “Yeah, so we should find this ‘Undyne’ and ask to join!”

“I don’t know if it’ll be that easy, but… I guess it’s worth a shot,” I say, considering the options. It  _ would  _ be a great source of income, but what would the job require? I hope beyond anything that it’s not too dangerous. But then again, we all have experience in defending ourselves, despite how limited it may be. 

“Don’t worry, Krista! With our skills, there’s no doubt we’ll be accepted,” Papyrus says. He gives me an encouraging smile and I reciprocate it, truly hoping that this sudden wish will come true. 

I realize the area we’re walking in is getting darker, and I notice those same towering trees suddenly compose both sides of the path. We pass over one final bridge to reach a long stretch of path that ends at a sealed pair of light purple double doors.

Our steps slow and maybe it’s just me, but the air feels like it’s a few degrees colder. The wall the doors are connected to is a dim purple-gray with cracks running through it, stretching as far in either direction as I can see. The Delta Rune symbol arcs over the towering pair, as if this is where the king’s jurisdiction ends.

“Does this lead to the Ruins?” I ask.

“Now that... is a question worth asking,” Sans says, pulling on one of the circular handles. The door, of course, remains shut. 

“It  _ must _ , since this is Snowdin’s limits,” I say, scanning the wall that refuses to crumble despite its evidently old age.

“So it does, what more can we say?” Sans asks.

“Well it's just…” I trail off, distracted by the extra chill that hangs in the air.

“No more wondering!” Papyrus declares, grabbing my arm. “Let's go find Undyne!” 


	22. There's Nothing More A Girl Could Ask For

We just barely avoid running into the dogs again when we spot them sniffing around a dead end next to a river that parallels the path. By keeping our distance and with the help of ice muffling our footsteps, we make it past without being spotted.

We don’t encounter any other monsters except for a tiny snowman-like one with a pointed nose and a gigantic cap made of ice. It prattles on about how impressive the design is before moving on, not caring if we disagree.

When we reach the area where we encountered the first dog, I’m about to suggest asking around town about Undyne when the two lizards from earlier pop out from where the path leads to a dead end.

“Yo! We saw you guys earlier, but we were really caught up in talking to the guards. Sorry for ignoring you,” the yellow one says.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re really sorry,” his sister echoes.

“It’s fine,” I say, not judging them at all.

“Yo, if we can make up for it, my name’s Merrick, and this is my sister Lily,” the yellow lizard says. “We just moved here from the city with our parents and older sister. Well, we just moved here a month ago, but we still freak out when we meet Royal Guards. At some point, we wanna meet Undyne!”

“Yeah, yeah, and then the king someday. But… we’d have to do something memorable first,” Lily says.

“So then, you wouldn’t know where we could find Undyne?” Sans asks.

“Oh, we know where she lives in Waterfall, we’re just too shy to walk up to her front door,” Merrick says.

“And that would be pretty rude for  _ us _ to disturb her,” Lily says, a bit despondent.

“Well we’re going to meet her; why don’t you come with us?” Papyrus asks.

“Oh no, no, no, we couldn’t,” Lily says, backing up. “We’re not worthy of  _ waltzing _ up to her house. She’s a great hero, the Captain of the Royal Guard, in fact.”

“Then can you tell us where she lives?” Sans asks, and I can tell he’s biting back frustration. Not because of Lily’s shyness but because of that phrase:  _ not worthy _ . They’re so bold to run up to the dogs, but the mere _ mention _ of approaching Undyne makes them cower. I don’t think it’s out of fear but rather out of a reputation that puts her on one of the highest of pedestals in their minds.

“For sure, just follow the main path until you find the yellow bird. It’s after the Wishing Room but before the Ponds. If you see the castle, then you’ve definitely gone too far,” Merrick says.

“Okay, thanks a lot. We just moved in a few days ago, so I guess we’ll see you around,” I say, waving goodbye and we turn to leave.

“Whoa, wait!” Lily says, her voice rising with an insistence I wouldn’t expect from someone so seemingly meek. “What are your names?”

Papyrus is all too happy to give his while Sans and I offer ours in a much less triumphant manner. The kids repeat them to remember before saying bye and taking off back towards the icy path. Before I can even warn them, Merrick trips and falls on his face, and Lily slips to fall flat on her back. I wince at their tumbles, but they pop right back up and slide the rest of the way, laughing as they go. I wonder if the whole “monsters aren’t as sensitive to temperatures as humans” is the same way for pain. If that was true, I’d feel a bit better.

We get back into town and I convince the boys to take the undersnow tunnels, just to see what they’re like. We enter the igloo one by one, climbing down a ladder to an icy cave lit by various shades of blue lights. There are two lanes for going to the east side of town and a separate block of two farther to the left for the west. A  _ Fast _ lane is on the left and a  _ Fastest  _ lane is on the right for both blocks. How clever. The ice in the  _ Fast  _ lane changes color between blue and light green while the  _ Fastest  _ lane changes between blue and purple at a more rapid pace. 

According to the instructions inked into the icy walls, all we have to do is hold onto the rails on either side of the tunnel, and we’ll get to the other side of town in no time.

“You’re testing it first,” Sans says, his bravado trying to mask his hesitation.

“Why? Because I suggested checking this out?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s safe,” Papyrus says, although he’s not even trying to hide his worry.

“Well it  _ must _ be if people use this,” I argue, walking towards the  _ Fastest _ lane.

Several testimonies are etched into the walls, some claiming it’s no fun holding onto the rails and others saying this is not worth it if you want to hold onto your breakfast. I’m gonna hold the rails just to be safe. The more I think about it, the more this reminds me of an amusement park ride. Of course, that’s something I have no experience with, which makes the preparation all the more frightening.

I grab the rails that stretch out of the tunnel, watching the veins of blue and purple light flash like they’re following the beat to a song.

I take a deep breath and look back at the boys, forcing a playful smirk onto my face, “Whoever goes next will get a badge of bravery from me.”

“Stop stalling,” Sans says as if he’s done this hundreds of times.

I roll my eyes and look forward again, remembering the instructions said I have to step onto the ice with both feet at the same time. I do and immediately shriek from the burst of force that pushes me forward faster than I have ever run. In seconds, that force stops and I’m stumbling out of the tunnel, presumably on the other side of town. I look back down the tunnel, only seeing an endless blur of the changing colors. It was a straight shot, but the distance is so far that I can’t see the boys. How fast did I go? It felt like two hundred miles an hour; not that I’d know how that feels from experience.

I re-read over the instructions but find nothing about what the tunnel actually did. I guess to a monster, you can trust magic no matter what it might do.

“Whoa!” I hear Papyrus yell, and I jump out of the way as he nearly trips out of the tunnel. I catch his arm to help him balance and after a couple breaths to compose himself, he starts laughing.

The pure joy in it makes me smile, “What’s so funny?”

“Nyeh-heh-heh! That was so fun! I’ve never gone so fast! What did you think?”

“Now that I think about it... that was pretty fun, even if it was only, what, three seconds?”

“Probably,” he says with a laugh, “but they were some of the most exciting in my life!”

I can’t help my broad smile. Who would’ve thought Papyrus would like a good adrenaline rush?

Movement from the  _ Fast  _ tunnel catches my eye, and I see Sans hop out of it, his slippers smacking loudly against the ice.

I feel my head shaking back and forth before I even realize what I’m disapproving of.

“Oh, you copped out! You scaredy bones!” I smack his arm, but he just smirks.

“What? I chose the safer path. I’m not gonna  _ slip _ like so many have already today.” 

“Sans!” Papyrus scolds, but I just laugh at his jab about my poor balance.

“You’re getting away with it today, buddy, but eventually,” I give Papyrus a wink, “we’re gonna get you to try the  _ Fastest  _ lane.” 

Sans’ smirk just widens at the challenge before I climb up the ladder.

***

After the fastest lunch imaginable, we head for Waterfall. I make sure to grab the letter from Asgore beforehand, fairly certain the Captain of the Royal Guard will not be too pleased to see a human on her doorstep. 

We follow Merrick’s instructions to find Undyne’s house, mostly traveling along the same path as when we came with Asgore. It’s only when we pass that glyph with the image of the monster/human creature does the area become unfamiliar.

We have to take a small raft to get to the next area, one that was inexplicably absent the last time we visited. It travels across the dark waters on its own, taking us to a new dock that makes several sharp turns past rows of cattails and columns of blue stone. After some time, we reach the bank and have to tread through tall grasses before stepping out to a long hallway. At the far end, I spot a bright yellow figure bobbing up and down. As I’d hoped, the figure is the bird.

“Hello,” Papyrus says to it, “do you know where Undyne’s house is?”

The bird hops up and down excitedly, “Yes, yes! It’s just across this pool.” The bird gestures to the water behind it, a far enough distance to the other side that we can’t jump across. Unlike the dark, deep blue waters that I’ve seen so far, this is a bright, glowing cyan. “I can carry each of you across.”

“How deep is the water?” I ask, doubting the bird’s strength; it’s no bigger than a parrot. 

“A lot deeper than you’d think. If you want to take the long way, you can, but trust me, I’m strong!”

“Alright then, we’d like to go across,” Sans says, stepping forward.

The bird flaps its wings and flies over his head, offering its feet for him to hold onto. Not only is the bird strong, but it also takes him across pretty quickly. Papyrus goes next and I follow suit, only a little nervous at first. Despite its size, the bird is steadfast and confident, flying higher than necessary over the mysterious water. 

“Her house is the first one on the left,” the bird says when my feet hit dry land. “I’ll be waiting to take you back over when you’re ready.”

We wave goodbye and walk the short distance to the first doorway that leads to what I assume is Undyne’s house. What we find makes me do a double take, as it’s not something I’d expect from someone with her occupation.

A large courtyard leads up to the house, but it’s empty except for a small training dummy shoved in a corner near the entrance. The house looks like a fish’s head, with scales and fins decorating the front and sides of the building. Spikes line the top of the house and travel down the back to loop around into a tail on the right side. Two oval windows on the front are designed so they look like eyes squinting in anger, and the white door has a squiggly line through its middle to look like sharp teeth. The left side of the house is light lavender with some highlights of blue while the right is a dark black with only accents of purple. 

“That is… quite a house,” I say, suddenly apprehensive about meeting the captain.

“Of course the Captain of the Royal Guard would have something so magnificent. Everyone knows the popular people deserve what’s best,” Papyrus says.

I wince at his last sentence, but I can’t refute his claim as he walks up to the front door and knocks.

“How can we even be sure she’ll be here?” Sans asks.

“Well it is about lunchtime so I’d think she’d be home,” Papyrus responds.

“But what if she’s doing stuff in the city?”

“Let’s just see i-”

The door opens, revealing a monster that looks like a fish, with blue skin and red trimmed fins on the sides of her head. The red in her fins also travels over her eyelids, just under her brows. Her fiery red hair is tied up in a high ponytail, about as long as mine, and two yellow fangs overbite out of her mouth at a crooked angle. An eye patch covers her left eye, and she peers at Papyrus with her bright yellow right one. From the neck down she’s dressed in nondescript, dark gray armor, revealing nothing about her title. Is this even Undyne? 

“Uh, can I help you?” she asks Papyrus, not seeing Sans or me off to her left. My throat tightens at the fact that she’s blind in one eye too. Along with that turtle, what happened to Gaster, and Sans, I’m a little scared that there’s some sort of trend going on. Maybe it’s all a coincidence, but to now have met four people who are blind in one eye?

“Yes, hello! Are you Undyne? The Captain of the Royal Guard?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we would like to join the Royal Guard!” 

“Who’s ‘we’?” she asks, first looking to her far right before slowly scanning to her left.

“My siblings and I! I’m Papyrus, and this is Sans and Krista.”

Her right eyebrow slightly rises when she sees Sans, probably surprised that he looks so different from Papyrus. But when she sees me, it’s as if every muscle in her body straightens, and an intense alertness sparks in her eye.

Before I can say anything, a flash of cyan bursts from her hand, and I don’t even realize I’m on the other side of the courtyard until Papyrus pulls me up to my feet. 

“What do you mean  _ I _ should stay back? That’s a damn human you’re walking around with!” Undyne yells.

“You don’t think we know that?” Sans snaps, and I look up to see he’s formed a wall of bone bullets in front of us, forcing Undyne to remain in her doorway.

“Just who the hell are you guys anyway?” she asks, glaring at my brother.

“We are residents of Snowdin, and we simply came to ask to join the Royal Guard,” Papyrus says, running up to Sans after making sure I’m okay. 

“I can believe that coming from you two, but what’s your story,  _ human _ ?” she snaps.

I walk towards her with measured steps despite the pain in my back from hitting the ground. In the process, I pull out the letter, and Sans drops his bullet defenses.

“I’m not an intruder,” I tell the captain, trying to keep my voice even as I hand her the letter.

She takes it with a scoff and unfolds the paper to read. The boys and I share apprehensive glances in the silence, unsure of what to do from here.

“How do I not know this isn’t a fake?” she asks, shoving the letter back to me.

“Because we know the king. If he was here right now he’d tell you the same things he says in the letter,” Papyrus argues, assuming Asgore wrote nice things about me. 

“Okay but that doesn’t change the fact that we only need one more human SOUL to break the Barrier. And yours will do just fine,” she says, forming a cyan colored spear and pointing it at me.

“The only problem is that it’d be useless, Captain,” I say, unwavering.

“Really? And what would you know about that?”

“You need red Determination, something that hasn’t walked the Underground in almost a thousand years. You’ve had a Perseverant since the 1600s. So throw me at the Barrier if you want, but nothing’s gonna happen.”

She drops her spear and smiles, “Well, I guess you really do know Asgore then. I’m surprised he didn’t let the scientists take your SOUL. Which makes me wonder,” she leans down so she’s just above my eye level, “what makes you so different from all the humans who have fallen so far?”

“She has us,” Sans says.

Undyne raises an eyebrow, “And just where did you come from then?”

“Does that matter in order to get into the Royal Guard?” Papyrus asks, slightly nervous.

Undyne retreats back to her full height, “No, I’m just curious as to where an unlikely trio like you would come from.”

“Oh good, because not even we know!”

“What?” she asks.

“But if we showed you our skills, would you consider us?”

She’s so taken back by Papyrus’ mannerisms that she just nods, “Okay then; show me what you got.”

***

After ten minutes, Papyrus makes it pretty clear that he can hold his own in a fight. Based on Undyne’s style, it’s evident that her bullets are spears. Most of them are cyan in color, but a few are yellow and jump behind Papyrus to attack. They catch him off guard the first two times, but afterwards, he blocks them with confident ease.

“Wow, you’re pretty good!” Undyne compliments him.

“Really?” Papyrus asks.

“Yeah, your skills are definitely worthy of the Royal Guard,” she says, dropping her defenses. Papyrus eliminates his bullet patterns too, a slight anxiousness in his expression. “The only question then is  _ why _ do you want to join?” 

“So I can be popular!” he says, lifting his chin.

Undyne raises an eyebrow and looks at Sans and me, “Is that why you want to join, too?”

“Nah, we just want jobs; he can get all the glory,” Sans says.

Undyne looks back to Papyrus, “Okay, but do you realize what the job entails?”

“Protecting the people and being very cool!”

Undyne glances at me, “Okay, but do you know what you’ll be protecting the people  _ from _ ?”

“Any threats to their safety!”

Undyne rubs her forehead and holds that hand out in my direction, “No, it’s  _ them _ , humans. What will you do if you encounter one?”

“I will challenge them in combat and show them what a very cool friend I can be!”

Undyne takes a deep breath and turns to me, “Human, may I speak with you inside?”

Sans steps in front of me, “Is it  _ just _ to talk or are you going to throw another spear at her?”

The captain rolls her eye, “Yes, it’s just to talk. At this point, it’s clear that you guys know Asgore. Although I’m gonna talk to him about this just to make sure.”

“It’s fine,” I tell Sans and follow Undyne into her house. 

The main room is brightly lit with a yellow and light blue checkered floor. A purple yoga mat is rolled out against the left wall and another one sits under a wide table to the right. A single door sits in the left corner along the back wall, followed by a counter with a stove in the middle and a refrigerator in the right corner. A sky blue wallpaper with pink fish on it covers the walls, making the room look even brighter. The only other object in the room is a piano on the left side, across from the table. 

Undyne shuts the door, and I turn back in time before she notices me observing her house. The captain gives me a wicked glare, as if she knows what I was doing. “Alright, you better explain quickly,  _ human _ . My lunch break is almost over.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Just where the hell you came from and why those guys consider you to be their sibling.”

“I entered the Underground through the Barrier and ran into the king just a few minutes after meeting the boys. After getting to know each other for a couple months, they took on my last name and accepted me as a sister.”

“I don’t buy it,” she hisses.

“Ask Asgore, we’ve been living with him for the past couple months.”

“Why did he never mention you to me?”

“Probably because he’s got a million other things to deal with. You know, like the experiments Dr. Alphys has been doing on monsters?”

Her eye widens, “What?”

“You didn’t know about that either? Gosh, I’d think the Captain of the Royal Guard would be a bit more knowledgeable about what other heads of royal departments are doing.”

She bristles, but suddenly smirks at my sass. “You’re pretty feisty, aren’t you?”

“How else would a little human survive?”

“Alright then, let’s say I do buy your story. Does that mean Asgore trained you, too?”

“A little, but I have some experience from the Surface. My family wanted to keep the knowledge of magic alive, unlike every other human who has forgotten it.”

“Then that brings me to my next question: why do  _ you _ want to join the Royal Guard?”

“Honestly? I just want a job, and if I can protect my brothers while doing it, then that makes it more meaningful.”

“Do you think you could fight and dare I ask  _ kill _ another human?” 

I consider the question. I know I can fight, and when it came to it, I have killed before. But that wasn’t a complete stranger. Then again, the next human that comes seems to be the Determination, and if they’re as dangerous as they can be…

I nod, “Yes, I can most certainly fight, and if they need to be put down, I can do it.”

The captain smiles at my fierce tone, “Well then, I  _ guess _ I could make you the first human to ever join the Royal Guard of the Kingdom of  _ Monsters _ , but… to be honest, I’m not so sure if it’s a good idea to accept Papyrus.”

“But you see how great of a fighter he is, and he would take the position very seriously.”

“I can see that, but do you honestly think he would be willing to  _ kill _ a human?”

“Why does anybody have to die?” I snap, seeing that same uncaring willingness that Asgore had for the lives of the first of each trait. Sure, I just said I could kill without a thought, but I already have blood on my hands. And there’s a likely chance that I won’t be able to go through with it if the time comes. But why do we have to place that challenge on  _ Papyrus’ _ shoulders?

“If he meets a relentless killer then yes, it would be his life or theirs. Do you honestly think he could do it?”

“That would never happen,” I say, feeling my fists clench. It  _ won’t _ , not while I’m here.

“And that’s why I can’t accept him. You know his personality better than I do, and even though you’re determined to protect him... you can’t always be there.”

“Then I don’t want to join if he can’t. Although, I would hope there’d be some possibility for him in the future.”

“How about this? I’ll train him in everything he could possibly know about the Guard, and maybe, if I can find the safest position possible, I’ll let him in.”

“Thank you, it means a lot,” I say genuinely.

“So then what sort of job can I get you or your other brother?” she asks, her offer surprising me.

“Uh, well what is there that’s not exactly the Guard?”

“A position below the Royal Guard is as a sentry. It doesn’t pay as good, but you’ll definitely be making more money than if you were a waitress or a shopkeeper. There are actually some spots in Snowdin and Hotland that we’re spread pretty thin. I could see if I could find something for you guys there.”

“That… that would be great. Thank you,” I say, dumbfounded. Twenty minutes ago she practically wanted to kill me, and now she’s offering to find me a job? Then again, I think the boys did more convincing than I did.

“Eh, it’s no problem, human. My only condition is that we spar sometime. I wanna see what you can do,” she smirks and opens the door.

Her challenge sends a chill down my spine, but I try to ignore it. Papyrus didn’t have too much trouble sparring with her, and while I’m definitely not as good as him, I think I’ll at least survive. 

Sans raises an eye socket as if to ask if I’m okay and I nod. Undyne summarizes what we agreed, explaining that she’ll train Papyrus and get us sentry jobs in the meantime. Papyrus is a little disappointed that we can’t be accepted immediately, but at least he’s enthusiastic about the training and the hopeful possibility of becoming a guard someday.

***

It only takes a week for Undyne to establish us as sentries, giving Papyrus free rein of Snowdin, while placing certain spots for Sans and I. The spot that she gives me in particular is near the door to the Ruins, just before the bridge that crosses to that long path. I’m not surprised, considering if a human ever enters from the Ruins I’ll be the first person to know, specifically to assess if they’re a threat I need to take down.

Since the dogs have houses, I get a small wooden sentry station to sit at for breaks, although it’s heavily implied that I should be on my feet most of the day. Only a couple days after Papyrus started training with Undyne, he came home saying they’re doing cooking lessons when they’re not sparring. I asked him how he felt about that and he seemed perfectly happy with it. I wonder if Undyne came up with some fancy explanation that it’s a skill Royal Guards have.

Now, three weeks after getting our jobs, we’ve got a good routine going. I mark today off the calendar, August fifth, and head out door, knowing Papyrus is probably at Undyne’s already, and Sans will get to Hotland soon. He wants me to tour it with him eventually, but I keep making excuses, not yet ready to face the lava again. I take the undersnow tunnels and start the long trek to the other side of Snowdin, now acquainted with quite a few locals. I’ve had to use Asgore’s letter a few times, especially with that couple of dogs we encountered, but overall, the people are pretty nice.

I’ve especially found a love for the small shop at the edge of town, run by a purple rabbit named Lavora. Not only does she sell the cutest cinnamon buns that are shaped like little bunnies, but she also sells the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had. Now that we've got steady income, I'm less strict about spending. However, I try not to go every day. Still, the temptation often gets the best of me. And today, it does.

I walk into the shop, lit a dark sunset orange, and her ears perk up at the sight of me.

“Hiya, hon! Which one will it be today?” Lavora asks.

“Just a small hot chocolate, it’s pretty chilly out there,” I respond.

“Yeah, they say we’ve got another cold snap coming tonight; I get nervous knowing you sentries and guards are out there all day.”

“Oh it’s fine, we were built for the cold.”

She smiles and hands me the steaming cup. “With that coat, you sure are!”

We say goodbye and I head off for my post, admiring the lake beyond the bridge as usual. I spot the dog we had encountered, and I now know his name is Greater Dog, in his tall suit of armor. He wags his tail at the sight of me, and I give him a good scratch behind the ears with a pat on the head. 

Crossing the ice patches is definitely a challenge without Papyrus, and it dawned on me the first day to use my magic. I make a solid bridge right above the ice and walk as if it's made of solid stone. It's a good way to exercise my magic while also being a little creative with it since I've pretty much only used it for defense or fighting. Honestly, I really should use it more often, not only to stay strong, but to view it as a normal part of life.

In the past few weeks, there are two other dogs I’ve met that we didn’t know earlier. One is named Lesser Dog, who just has close-fitting armor rather than Greater Dog’s bulky set with a sword and a shield. Her fur is light tan and she’s always panting no matter how cold it is. That girl won’t let me leave without at least one good pet, and even then she’ll stretch her neck like a giraffe in begging for more. The other dog is simply named Doggo, and he can only see moving things. It was pretty jarring the first time talking with him, but now I keep constant movement around him so I don’t “disappear.”

The couple we had met are finally accepting of us after reading the letter and learning our names. It turns out monster dogs are pretty friendly once they believe you’re a member of their territory and therefore their “pack.” The male’s name is Dogamy and the female is Dogaressa, apparently they were the Number Two Nose-Nuzzle Champions back in “98.” Those are some old dogs.

I make my way to my post and lean against the small structure, taking a sip of hot chocolate. Things definitely get boring after a half-hour, but it gives me time to think... gives me time to  _ overthink _ is probably the better term. About every little detail composing my life and everything I wonder that the future will bring. I definitely walk around and often stare at the Ruins door to question it, still feeling that slight chill, but overall, it’s fairly silent.

Three hours into today’s shift and I hear a  _ snap _ somewhere in the woods. My head jerks to the right, and I scan the dark trees, nothing. I take a few steps forward and start to send out slight senses of magic for a SOUL. While I’ve got two sparring challenges hanging over my head, I haven’t been putting my magic to too much use. I should probably get them over with before I lose my learned skills and have to rely on instinct.

I jump when I find a SOUL, but it’s different from any monster’s I’ve ever felt. A few more steps and I suddenly hear something bounding through the snow, almost running. I spot a little white dog out of the shadows and sigh, wondering why Greater Dog would be out here without his armor. But then I notice it’s not Greater Dog as this one has a much smaller chest and a thinner face. If I remember correctly, I think the breed is a Samoyed, which means this one is probably only four or five months old. The dog barks and runs up to me, stopping at my feet.

“Uh, hello, puppy. What are you doing out here?” I ask.

The dog sits and stares at me with an expectant gaze, as if he wants me to do something for him.

“Are you lost?”

The dog barks again and a white heart floats out of his chest: his SOUL. It’s not upside-down like a monster’s would be, but right-side up. 

I crouch in front of him and carefully hold my hand out, wondering what he wants.

“You’re not a monster, are you?” The dog shakes his head and my eyebrows rise at his knowing response. “So then, you’re an actual animal dog?”

He barks and his SOUL touches my hand. “Yes! Yes! I am!” a high pitched voice echoes in my head.

“Whoa!” I say, jumping back, my hand gripping his SOUL from surprise.

“Oh, I’ve missed humans! You guys are the best owners! I’ve been alone ever since I fell into the Underground when I lost my master, and I’ve been wandering for  _ years _ .”

“You’re… talking to me, in my head,” I say, processing the information.

“Yeah, but I can only do it when you touch my SOUL. Oh, please let me be your puppy!”

“But, you said it’s been years.”

“It has, but I think some sort of magic affected me, and now I’m stuck as a puppy. I don’t even think I should still be alive, but here I am!”

That's not very reassuring, but I lean forward and give him a scratch behind his pointy ears. “So where have you been all these weeks that I've worked out here?”

“I wander all over the Underground, and just today, I was making a round back to Snowdin. I'm so happy I found you! Please, can I be your puppy? I'm a very good boy!”

“Alright, alright,” I say, feeling a burst of joy that this little guy actually  _ wants _ me to be his owner. Perhaps… I can have a puppy after all. “What's your name?”

His ears droop, “I uh, I don't know. It's been so long since I heard it that I don't remember.”

“Do you… want me to come up with one?”

His ears lift, “Yes, yes! But can I tell you something?”

“What?”

“I don't really like having my SOUL out of my body. It makes me cold. I just wanted to talk to you first so you'd know a bit about me.”

“Oh, that's okay,” I say, giving him his SOUL back. “I know how you feel. So… what to name you?”

The puppy stares at me expectantly, and I feel like I'm being put on the spot. “Hmm, well what about this? I'll throw out suggestions and you let me know what you think?” He nods, “Alright… what about Bailey?”

His lip curls up in a slight sneer and I take that as a definite no. “Okay, how does… Toby sound?”

He turns his head to the side, as if it's a name fit for a different dog, but his tail does wag. I think I'm getting close to a suitable name.

“Okay, what about…” the name hits me like a tackle hug from an old friend. Its similarity to Toby definitely brought it out from the depths of my memory; maybe I was searching for it all along, another name that reminds me of people I once loved. “Cody?”

The puppy wags his tail furiously and he barks in what I'm guessing means, “Yes!” 

“Alright then, Cody,” I say, starting to walk back towards town. “If you want me to be your owner, then you've got some family members to meet.” 

***

“So he just ran to you?” Sans asks, munching on an apple.

“All because he wanted to have a human owner?” Papyrus asks.

“Yep, so what do you think? Are you cool with having a dog?” I say, petting Cody from my spot on the couch. It was nice timing that Cody showed up around my lunch break; it forced me to reason on the spot rather than muddle all day over what I’d say to the boys about this.

“Yeah sure, I like dogs,” Sans says, as if his opinion doesn’t matter anyway. Cody’s tail wags and he runs up to Sans to give him a lick on the cheekbone. “Aww, we’re most certainly keeping you now, pup.”

“Papyrus?” I ask.

“I guess he’d be a nice addition to the family, but I’m not going to keep track of his whereabouts all the time.”

“Don’t worry; he’ll stick with me during the day.”

“Well he can visit me in Hotland too,” Sans says, ruffling Cody’s fur. “Which reminds me,” he gives me a sly grin.

“ _ No _ ,” I say.

“Oh, don’t worry I’m not going to drag you there today. I actually found something in Waterfall that I want you guys to see.”

“How long will it take?” Papyrus asks.

“It’ll be quick. I doubt Undyne would get mad if you’re not strolling around Snowdin at  _ exactly _ 12:30.”

“I don’t want to push my luck. You know a guard is supposed to always be on time!”

“And you’ll be on time by the minute, but maybe not the second,” Sans says with a wink, leading us out the door.

He takes us to the Ponds, a maze of paths that travel around bright cyan waters, just past where we met the bird. Cattails and Echo Flowers sway in Waterfall’s faint, unending breeze, scattered all around the marshes. After passing a few rooms beyond them, one an empty cavern of still waters and another with a lonely statue being weathered by drops of water, Sans reveals a room that displays the closest thing I’ll ever get to seeing rain down here.

Waterfalls pour down the right side of the path, their mist collecting on the stones and falling to the ground like rain. Just before where the rain starts, a bucket full of umbrellas sits in a corner with the sign, “ _ Please take one _ ,” next to it. I have half a mind to grab an umbrella before stepping under the “precipitation.” Huge puddles fill the eroded stone path, and I’m very grateful that my boots are waterproof as some puddles are as deep as my ankles.

“Wow, it’s like snow, but it’s water,” Papyrus says, grabbing an umbrella too.

“On the Surface, we call this rain,” I tell him.

Cody follows near me, but he doesn’t seem to mind getting wet, and neither does Sans as he waltzes into the downpour. 

“You don’t care that you’re getting soaked?” I ask him. 

He gives me one of his genuine smiles, one that would make anybody else think he’s never suffered a day in his life. “I’ve taken a liking to feeling the rain. It gives me a sense of freedom.”

“But now you’re going to be all wet going into the house,” Papyrus points out.

“Nah bro, I’ll dry off in Hotland.”

“So is this what you wanted us to see?” Papyrus asks as the path takes a right turn. “Because it is very beautiful, but I don’t know why you couldn’t wait until tonight to show us.”

“Just follow, you’ll see,” Sans says, taking the lead. Papyrus and I share a glance at Sans’ eager tone; whatever’s up ahead, he’s really excited about it.

We take a left turn and the rain suddenly stops as the path opens up to a gigantic cavern. Papyrus and I shake our umbrellas a bit before tossing them on the ground. I'll make sure to return them later. 

In the next room, I have to catch my breath at the view as millions of Ceiling Stars illuminate the room, the largest ones being light blue while the white and purple are dimmer. Despite how many there are, the cavern is still fairly dark along the path we walk. But the real gem of the room is the sight of the distant castle, light gray and structured with three towers combined to form the building. The spiked tops of the towers are bright blue, and I’m not sure if that’s because of the stars or that they’re actually colored that way.

Sans leads us to the middle of the path so we can get a full view, taking in the sight of the stars and the place where we used to live. I can’t judge the distance from here to the castle, as the path we stand on drops off into a foggy mist, no telling how long a fall would be. The mist starts at a light teal, unnervingly close to the lab’s color, before fading off into green and eventually, maroon. I put a hand on the stone wall behind me, just to have a sense of security despite how wide the path is.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Sans asks.

“We used to live  _ there _ ?” Papyrus asks.

“Pretty crazy, huh?” 

“To be honest, I like our new home better.”

“Did you just make a pun?” Sans asks, his eyes lighting up.

Papyrus squints at him, “No.”

“Heheh, I get it.”

I can’t take my eyes away from the sight, dumbfounded by its beauty. Who would’ve thought the monsters could create this out of the darkness?

“Krista? What do you think?” Sans asks.

“It’s just so… beautiful,” I say.

“You could say you’re ‘starstruck,’” Sans says with a laugh.

I smile, “I guess I am.”

We stand in silence for a bit, with nothing more than the distant raindrops to echo on the rocks.

“Sans, Krista, are you happy?” Papyrus asks, seeming cautious.

“Why would you ask that?” Sans says.

“It’s just... I feel like our whole lives, we’ve been fighting towards something, and I think I’ve realized that this is what it is. These past few weeks... they’ve been the happiest I’ve ever felt. With all these new places we’ve seen and all the nice people, I know that I’m truly happy. I just want to make sure you’re both happy, too.”

“Oh, Papyrus,” I say, wrapping an arm around him, “Yes, I’m happy, happier than I’ve been in years. These past few weeks have been some of the best in my life, and I have to thank you both for making them so great.”

“Same here,” Sans says, placing his arm just above mine. “I can’t imagine a better life or better people to spend it with.”

Cody nuzzles against me and I rub his head, feeling true peace as we listen to the echoing cavern under the glittering stars.


	23. A Short-Lived Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I promise this is the last chapter I'll post this week, and I'm pretty sure I actually will stick to one chapter a week from now on. 
> 
> I like to keep my writing schedule five chapters ahead of the ones I'm posting, but I've written so much lately that it's ridiculous how far ahead I am (a grand total of 40,000 words). I just finished Chapter 29 a couple days ago, and all I can say is that I'm pretty excited/terrified for you guys to find out what happens.

After some impressive persuasion at dinner, I finally agree to go to Hotland with Sans, telling myself it will be good to overcome a fear for once in my life. We agree to go after lunch tomorrow, since we’re only required to work for half a day on Sundays. According to Undyne, days off accumulate over time, but for now, the only time off we’ll get are our half days at the beginning of the week. Papyrus is going to get a decent tour of New Home City with her, learning the subtle differences between city guards and guards in more urban areas of the Underground. 

“Just remember, that even though I won’t be with you, know that the lava can never hurt you!” Papyrus says before leaving the next day, giving me a hug. 

“Aww, I know, I’ll try to be brave like you,” I say, hugging him back.

He leaves and Sans steps out of their room, not even ready for the day. “Twelve?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you near the lab,” I respond.

He gives me a squint, “Don’t tell me you’re going to walk the whole length of Waterfall to get there.”

“What if I do?” I ask, looking away from him.

“You know the River Person isn’t that bad; I use their boat almost every day now. I asked them why they were so cryptic, and they said they’re like that with everybody.”

“And you believe them?”

“I’d  _ like to _ believe them, but it’s your choice. I just don’t want to wait a half hour for you to show up.”

“Aw, you’ll be fine,” I say, pulling the front door open.

He rolls his eyes, “You know I’m trying to help you break out of your comfort zone, which consists of talking to people that you distrust for vague reasons and walking above lava.”

“Man, it’s gonna take you  _ years  _ to help me overcome such an extensive list.”

He smirks, “I’m willing to take on the challenge.”

“Of course you are, I’ll see you at noon,” I say, shutting the door and heading out to my post with Cody following by my side.

 That seems to be Sans’ goal nowadays, helping Papyrus or me overcome our issues. Of course, he never shows or tells me if he’s struggling with anything. I’d like to think if it was something major, he would tell me. I truly hope he really is as happy as he says he is; I know I am.

I make a few loops around my usual trail, getting a little distracted by playing fetch with Cody. The other dogs seem to be familiar with him, but it’s as if they accept him more now that he has a place in the world, no longer an aimless stray.

Eventually, Cody tuckers out and curls up underneath the small shelf built into my station. I give him a few pets before walking off to scan the tree line again.

Just a few steps after the bridge, I hear a rustle near the edge of the woods. My senses go on alert and my eyes dart to the right, towards the source of the sound. I think I hear a slight snicker, and I approach the spot with careful steps. With my hands stuffed into my pockets, I form the smallest dagger as a precaution.

“Howdy!” a bright voice chirps behind me. I jump and spin around, searching for the speaker. “Uh, hee-hee, down here,” the voice says from below.

I look down to see a yellow flower with six petals sprouting out of the ground. Its white face has a bright smile and two black eyes that peer at me with curiosity. Every instinct I have suddenly screams for me to run, but I stay still. Why is this unthreatening creature giving me such dread?

“I’m Flowey! Flowey the Flower! What’s your name?” it asks.

“I uh, I’m Krista,” I say, stumbling over my words. If I didn’t have this feeling, I’d probably laugh at his ridiculous name.

“What’s the matter? Haven’t ya ever seen a talking flower?” he asks with a wink, sticking out a little pink tongue.

“No.”

“Hee-hee, I thought not. Yeah, I haven’t seen another talking flower either! I guess it makes me special.”

He might as well have straight out told me he was  _ the  _ flower. The one Alphys tested, the one the River Person  _ must  _ have been referring to. I bite my lip to keep from stating the information, unsure if he even knows that he was created from an experiment. Which also begs the question about the Determination he was injected with. Does it just keep him sentient or does it do more?

“Anyway, you’re new to Snowdin aren'tcha?” he asks, unfazed by my staring.

“Uh, well we’ve been here for about a month now,” I say, trying to fabricate some sense of casual calm.

“Who’s ‘we’?” he asks with genuine, friendly curiosity.

“My brothers and I.”

“Aww, aren’t siblings the best? I once had a sister, and we did everything together!”

He had a sister that was also a flower? Did Alphys inject more than one? But wait, he said he hasn’t seen another talking flower. Did Alphys use something else as a vessel? Or could it be the Determination influencing Flowey’s personality? What if this is a combination of personalities from all the humans who had the trait extracted from them?

“Uh, yeah, there’s no relationship like the one you have with your siblings,” I say, trying to ease my tension. 

“So what are you doing out here at the edge of Snowdin? If you ask me, I think it’s kinda scary how quiet and lonely it is,” he says.

“Well, I’m a sentry so it’s my job to watch for any disturbances.”

“You mean you’re not in the Royal Guard? Gosh, with that coat, I would’ve thought you’d be the captain!”

Despite my unease, I laugh. What is this fascination so many monsters have with my coat? “No, no, I’m just a sentry.”

“But would you ever want to be in the Guard?”

“I guess, but I don’t unless my brothers can be in it.”

“Aww, I’m guessing you’re the oldest?”

“Yeah.”

He sighs as if remembering a fond memory, “My sister was older than me too, but only by a little bit! She was kinda bossy, but I always knew she did it out of a loving heart.”

I smile, hoping I’ve never come off as an overbearing big sister. “Oh yeah, we always boss out of love.”

“I wish you could have met her, maybe you’d have a good laugh about how annoying little brothers are,” he says, hopping a little higher out of the ground.

His comment makes me realize he probably wants me to ask about her; maybe he hasn’t talked to anyone about her in a long time and it’s something he needs to get out. “Can I ask what happened to her?”

“Oh,” his petals droop a bit, “Well it’s a really sad story, and I don’t want to ruin your day.”

“I don’t mind,” I say, crouching so he doesn’t have to look up so high. “Sometimes we actually feel better afterwards. You may not realize it, but burying the pain turns it into a heavy weight. If you talk about it, you’ll feel better.”

“Huh, you’re right,” he says, his petals lifting a bit. “Well, she was always troubled by things she didn’t want to talk to me about. I knew she had a lot of nightmares, but when I asked her to tell me about them, she’d say I was too young to understand. She said not talking about it was a way of protecting me. One day, she got really sick. I wanted to save her  _ so bad _ , but there was nothing I could do.”

“Oh, that’s awful, Flowey,” I say genuinely, trying to fight back my questions. Could they have been prisoners in a lab, too? Was his sister the first test subject that failed and he’s the success that escaped?

“Yeah, so I try to push on and find reasons to be happy. It’s pretty lonely without her; it makes me feel like my days are on repeat with no purpose. No matter what I do, there’s no one I’ve met that’s as amazing as she was.”

I can feel my wariness decreasing with every word as understanding replaces it. I won’t outright ask him if he was locked in a lab, that information will come whenever he feels ready to share it. He’s just a kid, lost without the guidance of his older sister. It makes me wonder if Mable would have been like this if I had died instead.

“Well, I know I can’t be your sister, but would you like a friend?” I ask him.

His face brightens, “Really? Oh gosh, that would be wonderful! Are you sure?”

“Of course I am, everybody needs a friend.”

“Well okay then!” he says, extending a root out of the ground and I realize it’s to shake. “Friends!”

I grab the root and am instantly frozen in place as hundreds of images flash before my eyes, so fast that I can only pick out a few: New Home City burning, monsters cheering Flowey’s name, the blue stone of Waterfall covered in dust, and eyes the darkest red I’ve ever seen with a child’s voice saying, “We’ll do it together, right?”

It’s so fast that when I let go, Flowey doesn’t seem to notice except for the slightest drop in his smile, replaced with a squint. I wouldn’t have noticed if my eyes weren’t deadlocked on his face.

“I guess I’ll see you around then,” he says, his voice suddenly lacking its cheerfulness as he drops under the snow and disappears.

I shake my head, my arm still extended and I drop it. What the hell was that? Those weren’t  _ memories  _ of his, were they? Maybe they were nightmares? My head suddenly pounds with a vicious ache, and I make my way back to my station, needing to sit down as nausea nearly overtakes me.

I end up tripping and slam my hands against the side of the wooden structure, waking Cody. He yelps and jumps off the shelf in the corner of my eye, his head swiveling in search of threats.

“Sorry, buddy,” I whisper, clutching the side of my head with one hand and gripping the wood with the other.

He whimpers and nuzzles my side, asking what’s wrong.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, my limbs beginning to shake. What is happening?

I drop my head to the ground, fighting to even my breathing as the pain overwhelms me. It feels like someone’s slamming my head into a concrete wall, and I sense my magic stirring without my permission, trying to fight back. My vision blacks out, and I’m thrown into the darkness. 

***

My eyes drift open and I take a deep breath, feeling Cody’s weight from his head resting on my stomach. He wakes up and turns to me, blinking a few times with loving recognition.

“Hey, puppy,” I say, rubbing his head before remembering what just happened.

I sit up so fast that he jumps, but I stare straight ahead as my last memories come back. Flowey. Our conversation. His… memories? And that merciless, brutal pain that must’ve made me pass out.

I look around to realize that I’m home, in my pajamas, safe and tucked under my blanket. Based on the light outside, it’s maybe seven in the morning. Have I been out for almost a whole day? Wait, I was supposed to meet Sans. Did he get worried and find me? Or did Cody tell him?

“Cody... how did I get here?” I ask my puppy.

He turns his head in confusion and offers me his SOUL. “What do you mean? Don’t you remember going to bed last night?”

“Yeah, but what just happened? I must’ve passed out from the pain. Did you get help?”

“You’re not making any sense. Today’s just another day. Are you hurt? Did you have a nightmare?”

I feel a chill run down my spine, and I give him his SOUL back. “Yeah, it was probably a nightmare.”

I crawl off the couch and go up to the attic to get ready for the day, trying to find some sense of normalcy so I don’t panic. Ten minutes later, I go downstairs to find Papyrus about to leave. 

“Oh Krista! When you go to Hotland today, just remember, that even though I won’t be with you, know that the lava can never hurt you!” he says, wrapping me in a hug. 

I bury my building terror and hug him back, “Oh, I know, I’ll try to be brave like you.”

He leaves and on cue, Sans steps out of their room, “Twelve?”

I can’t contain it anymore, and I feel tears prick in the corner of my eyes. His smile drops, and I try to rub the tears away, as if he can’t notice them. In an instant, I feel him rubbing my shoulder. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“That’s the problem;  _ I don’t know what the hell happened _ ,” I say, choking on the words, not even bothering to wonder how he went from upstairs to where I am.

He leads me to the couch and I furiously try to hold back the tears, but the shock is so powerful, I can’t.

“Just say one thing about it, give me a clue,” he says.

“Today has  _ already happened _ ,” I’m able to say.

“Already happened? You mean, like you’ve already been to Hotland with me?”

“No, well, not exactly. I mean the morning went by as usual, and I was out at my post when I met this  _ flower _ .” 

I try to explain everything, but I’m pretty sure I’m sounding crazier by the second. In a world where magic and monsters are real, I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, but still, I feel like he’s going to back away and suggest that someone lock me up. But of course, this is Sans, and he’d be the last person to ever call me crazy.

“I know it sounds insane-” I try to reason.

“No, it doesn’t,” he says sternly, the lights in his eyes blacked out.

“What should I do?” I ask, feeling a spike of fear that this day is now stuck in a permanent loop. I can’t imagine... 

“We’ll go out there together, see if we can find him. He’s probably testing the waters since this was your first time meeting him, and whatever he can do… I doubt he expected you to remember.”

“But  _ what _ did he do?” I ask, more myself than Sans.

“I don’t-”

I gasp, remembering all that I read a few months ago, reminding myself of  _ what he has _ .

“Determination!” I yell, jumping up to grab the SOUL book upstairs. I pull it out of my duffel bag and Sans is already in the room. I flip to the back and show him the final explanation, speculating about the powers of Determinations. Timelines, Save points, Resets… repetition of events.

The information doesn’t faze him, in fact he just seems curious about the suggestion that Perseverants can remember and even take over Save points.

“That could be useful,” he simply says.

I frown, “Sans, I don’t even know how I remembered it; I just felt my magic act on its own.”

“That’s it; you have enough power that you know without trying. Which is why I’m going to have to work at remembering,” he says with a slight smirk.

“Are you serious?”

“There’s no way I’m going to let you experience this alone. I don’t care what it takes; _ I’m not forgetting _ ,” he says, a scary amount of determination in his voice. 

“But don’t you think it’s worse to remember? Maybe it’d be better if you don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I told-”

He points a finger at me, right above my heart, and the metal plate gleams in the dim attic light. “ _ Don’t. You.  _ **_Dare_ ** _. Say. It _ ,” he says slowly, each word biting with anger. I look away, guilty I dumped this burden on him, and he laughs a hollow, empty sound. “You know, the fact that you confided in me is good, it means you trust me. And I will do everything in my power to ensure that you’re not alone. If I forget, then you can decide if you want to shoulder it. But remember this Krista, you’re my sister, and I think I’m getting pretty good at figuring out when something’s bothering you. For both our sakes, please don’t feel guilty, and don’t try to keep me in the dark.”

“Okay,” I sigh, deciding this isn’t a battle worth fighting. We’re in this together now, and if he forgets… then maybe I’ll change my mind.

“I don’t mean to be harsh, but  _ seriously _ , that seems like the only way I can get it in your mind that you’re not alone anymore. And I am more than capable of shouldering a burden with you. Alright?”

I nod and he rubs my shoulder before heading back downstairs. Three minutes later, we’re heading for the edge of Snowdin. It’s difficult to act normal, but Sans’ calm demeanor with the monsters we pass makes it a bit easier. Honestly, he’s such a great actor that he could pretend to be a completely different person and they’d all believe that’s his true personality.

We reach my post and he squints at the area, searching for any disturbances. Cody stands at my left, his ears up and alert. I don’t think he fully understands what’s going on, but I’m proud of him for following without question. Not because it means he’s a blind subordinate, but because he’s loyal and faithful, through and through. 

After a few minutes of silence, we finally hear a rustle, and I slightly smirk when I hear the movement of earth behind me.

“Howdy!” that same chipper voice calls. We turn around and Flowey smiles up at us. “I’m-”

“Flowey,” I say calmly.

His smile drops and he stares at me with wide eyes. “You… you remember?”

“What the hell did you do to me?” I snap.

He just keeps staring, “I had my suspicions since you brought him but… golly… you remember! You remember, and that was before I even Saved!” He ducks closer to the ground, but I still hear him, “The only question now would be if you remember Resets.”

“Enough games, what the hell was yesterday?” I hiss.

“You mean today? Hee-hee, I just wanted to talk, to get to know you,” he says innocently.

“Yeah? And what were those images? Where did that pain come from?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I will admit your deer-in-the-headlights look was pretty weird when we shook ‘hands.’”

“You have Determination; you know more than you’re leading on.”

He laughs, “So you think you’ve got me figured out? Because trust me,  _ human _ , you don’t know the first thing about me.”

Flowey peers at each of us, as if he’s calculating odds and imagining scenarios. “Oh yes,  _ this  _ will be fun indeed, perhaps the most fun I’ve had in years.”

He ducks under the snow and Sans reaches out, his hand surrounded by blue magic. “What the hell?” he hisses.

“What?”

“I was trying to find a SOUL to grab... but he doesn’t have one.”

My eyes widen, “Then he really is  _ the  _ flower.”

“I think everything he said about a ‘sister’ was just a lie to gain your trust.”

“Probably and he didn’t deny my claim that he has Determination.”

“Which means he’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s got power over ‘timelines.’”

I squint at the spot where Flowey ducked underground, wondering how he can make the snow look undisturbed despite his movement. Not only that, but there’s no way he can just easily pop up through permafrost. Again, magic is the obvious answer, but does he have inborn magic, or is it pure Determination?

“So how do you think we should deal with him?” Sans asks, regaining my attention.

“I think… we should ignore him, for now.”

My brother raises an eye socket, “You sure about that?”

“Yes, he  _ wants  _ us to worry, to let the fear of time repeating itself to plague our thoughts. I say we just keep enjoying life, and if he shows up, we stop him.”

“What do you mean, as in  _ kill  _ him?” Sans says as if neither of us has ever killed before.

“Not necessarily, but when the time comes, maybe I can do what the book says and force time to move forward. He mentioned that I remembered even though he didn’t Save the progress of meeting me, which means his Save point is set to today. The problem is, how far back is his Reset point?”

“Do you think he realized that you saw his memories or whatever they were?”

“Definitely, there’s no other reason for why he would’ve gone back to this morning’s Save point to meet me again.”

“So then, why did you get such a horrible migraine?”

“I think that pain was a warning that he was going back to his Save point, and maybe that was my magic’s way of fighting back forgetting. If I can figure out how to keep progress moving forward, then he can’t do anything to us beyond that.”

“That sounds like a nice plan, only what if you don’t figure out how to affect his Save points?”

“I  _ will _ ,” I say, feeling that strong need to persist that I don’t get as often as I should.

Sans smiles, “Alright then, you’ve convinced me.” He turns to walk back to town, and I follow with Cody by my side. “Then in the process of going on with life as usual, how about we stop for lunch before heading to Hotland?”

“Dude, it’s like eight in the morning, and we’re supposed to be working,” I protest, even though I continue following him.

“Well, this place doesn’t serve ‘breakfast’ meals which means you’re going to have lunch cuisine in the morning.”

“Just call it brunch then,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Ah, I like how you’re thinking. You could call this ‘food for thought.’”

“That’s a terrible pun.”

“Hey, I can keep ‘dishing them out.’”

Cody whines in annoyance and I laugh, “I agree, Cody.”

“I’m gonna name ‘s’more’ for you.”

“We’re supposed to be working!” I get out before he says another one.

“No prob’, you’ll just help me out in Hotland for the whole two hours that we’ll be on the clock.”

“If Undyne kicks down the door tonight, you’re taking full responsibility,” I say with a pointed look.

He just smiles, “Sure thing.”

***

“When have you ever eaten  _ here _ ?” I ask, staring at the Grillby’s restaurant.

“Like three times when I was supposed to be working,” Sans says with a shrug.

“What!? You’re slacking off?” I say, putting my hands on my hips, realizing I’m probably coming off as a bossy big sister.

He hunches his shoulders a bit, but I can tell he’s holding back a laugh at my hysteria.  _ Seriously _ , I do not want to spar with Undyne anytime soon, but if either of us slips up, I’m pretty sure she’ll put me on the chopping block in a heartbeat.

“It was only for a few minutes, and trust me, it’s some pretty quality food. You won’t be disappointed,” he says as if he’s a five-star chef offering his esteemed opinion.

“I don’t care how good it is if Undyne’s going to throw a bunch of spears at me,” I protest, following him into the restaurant with Cody on my heels.

My nose immediately wrinkles at the scent of fried food and wood smoke as the door shuts behind me. There’s a heaviness to the air, a combination of grease and heat creating a dense, invisible fog. One quick scan around the room tells me this isn’t a restaurant, more like a diner, but the back of my mind hints that it might be something of a lesser title... 

It’s a single room colored a dark orange-brown, with two booths against the right wall and a couple tables scattered to the left, all different sizes. There’s a tiny square table in the corner, a large rectangular one in the middle, and a high round table towards the back. In the back left corner, there’s a shut door that I assume leads to the kitchens, and a silent juke box sits in the corner opposite of it. The back wall is what makes my stomach clench, as it’s a tall shelf lined with various shaped bottles. A counter wraps around it and a monster with a flame of fire for a head stands behind it in a tuxedo, cleaning a glass. 

Only three other monsters occupy the room: two sitting at the counter, one a red bird and the other a tan fish, and a yellow…  _ being  _ that’s about eighty percent a giant mouth full of jagged teeth. The rest of its body is merely a crumpled blob, and I try to hide my discomfort as we walk past it.

We sit at the only two empty stools at the counter, and Sans takes the right one, unconsciously forcing me to sit closer to the tan fish. Cody sits on the floor behind us, watching the room like a trained guard dog.

“Have you ever had fries?” Sans asks, excitement glimmering in his eyes.

I smirk, “Yeah, but I can’t tell you the last time I did.”

“Well then I want your opinion, cuz I think they’re great,” he says, and asks the fire monster for a medium plate.

“You know they’re pretty unhealthy, right?” I ask, realizing that the idea of eating fried food suddenly makes me sick. It’s been years since I’ve had that kind of junk food. I’m so used to fruit and granola bars that I forget what it’s like to just eat anything I want.

“Do you really think it matters what I eat?” he asks, gesturing to his skeletal frame.

I roll my eyes, “Probably not, but I think it’s still important to eat healthy foods.”

“Come on, a few fries aren’t gonna hurt ya. Besides, you still look like you’re five pounds away from being a skeleton yourself.”

“I do not,” I say defensively. Really, I have gotten  _ a lot _ better than how I was when I left the lab. My cheekbones are definitely less prominent and so are my ribs. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m anywhere close to reaching a hundred pounds. I don’t know if it’s genetics or that my growth has been stunted from years of barely having enough, but I might never reach the triple digits. It’s no wonder I’ve always been so weak. Maybe I would’ve actually looked my age right now if I had lived a normal life.

Sans slightly puts his hands up, “True, you definitely look better, but c’mon, live a little.”

I stifle a scoff as the fire monster places a plate of warm fries and a bottle of ketchup in front of us, “This is your definition of ‘living a little?’”

“Hell yeah,” he says, dumping practically half the ketchup bottle onto his half of the plate.

“Dude, they’re all gonna be soggy in two minutes.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, already munching on a handful in that strange way he eats without opening his mouth.

I grab a fry from my side and collect a small dab of ketchup, popping it in my mouth before my anti-food instincts try to kick back in. In all honesty? The fry is delicious, warm and crunchy without any traces of grease.

“I’m living now,” I say, grabbing three this time.

Sans smiles with what I think resembles pride in his eyes, and I remind myself of how much progress I’ve made. Just three months ago, I would have never done this. 

I hear Cody whimper and I look back to see him giving me the most adorable puppy eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Aw, do you want some?” I ask, giving him a fry. Cody gobbles it down in a second and saliva pools in the corners of his mouth. I had made sure to get him some pretty good dog food at Blizzard Hype yesterday, but I know a puppy’s always going to beg for people food.

“Just don’t feed him more than you’re going to eat; I’m paying good money for this,” Sans says, his voice slightly mimicking mine when I’ve warned about over-spending.

I laugh, “I don’t sound like that.”

“Oh, you sure do, big sis,” he says, placing a 50G coin on the counter. “Thanks Grillbs, it’s great.”

The fire monster is silent as he accepts the payment and leaves to enter wherever that closed door leads.

“Wait, that’s Grillby?” I whisper to Sans.

“Yeah, the tuxedo didn’t give you a clue?”

“Not really.”

“He’s pretty quiet, but every now and then he’ll say a short sentence.”

“So you’re another new face around here,” a raspy voice says to my left and I turn to see the tan fish, her full, dark red lips twisted in a smirk.

“Yeah,” I say cautiously.

She chortles, “Well then it’s my honor to introduce you to Grillby’s signature drink: lava juice!”

As if he heard her (and he probably did), Grillby comes back into the room and grabs a polished glass from underneath the counter.

“All new customers get a free taste test,” he says softly.

“Yeah, to see if you can be a regular!” the fish laughs, lifting a glass full of amber liquid. My uneasiness returns… this place isn’t a bar like my worst fears first thought, but a pub, a slightly less hostile environment. However, it doesn’t reject the presence of a certain type of drink…

“I don’t think it tastes very good,” Sans whispers to me as Grillby places a glass full of translucent, dark orange liquid in front of me.

“This is juice?” I ask, even though I can almost say for certain it isn’t.

“Yep! It’s the best drink in the house! You can’t get it anywhere else,” the red bird suddenly pipes up.

I pick up the glass and the fish stops me, “Uh, you might wanna stand up, tasting that stuff for the first time will make you feel so triumphant, you’ll just kick back your stool and hurt your puppy there.”

I raise an eyebrow at Sans and he shrugs, “I don’t think it makes a difference.”

Wary, I push myself off the stool and take a step back, feeling all their eyes on me. Still unconvinced that it’s juice, I take a sniff of the liquid just to get a sense of what it is. The scent of vodka hits me like all those slaps to my face did, strong and merciless. I yelp and jump back, dropping the glass in the process. It shatters against the hardwood floor and Cody leaps back, just barely avoiding the shards.  

My ears slightly ring and the fish screeches with laughter, smacking the counter as her body convulses with shaky breaths.

“Damn! I've seen quite a few kids who can't hold their liquor, but you're definitely the first to freak out before even taking a sip!”

I take my eyes off the “juice" that nearly blends into the floor and give her a glare. 

“What's the matter, girl? Scared of a little alcohol?” the red bird asks, snickering with her friend.

I dig two gold coins out of my pocket and slam them on the counter, not even caring that they're both 100G. “Sorry about the mess,” I mutter to Grillby before turning and storming out the door. The right thing to do would be to stay and clean it up, but I can't stand another second in the presence of those two. Sure, they have no idea what that scent reminds me of, but it doesn't make their laughter tap into my fury any less.

A wave of freezing air hits me with cooling comfort as I open the door and leave the pub, taking a few steps off the path so I'm by the tree line. I stare into the forest and take deep breaths, trying to erase that dreaded scent with the comfort of pine. A few moments later, I hear the door open and Cody runs up to me, jumping into my line of vision with flattened ears.

“You okay?” Sans asks behind me.

“There are still… a lot of things I haven’t told you about my life on the Surface,” I’m able to force myself to say.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to; I get the idea,” he says.

“Yeah, but then things like  _ that  _ happen and you’re left just as confused as everybody else.”

“Then do you want to explain?”

I sigh and start walking down the path, “We’re gonna travel through Waterfall if you want to know.”

He falls into step beside me with Cody not too far behind, “You’re still willing to go to Hotland?”

“It’s not like I’m injured, just a little shaken up.” He waits for me to continue, and I remain silent until we make it through the blizzard barrier. “That ‘juice’ as they called it is a false title. It’s actually called alcohol, specifically vodka, one of the strongest types. It’s a drink that… changes people into something they’re not. Some people get really happy from it, others become tired, but my father was the type who became angry. Drinking was his outlet to ease the pain of my mom’s death, and a wonderful side effect was his violent side. My sister and I were on the receiving end of that violence more times than I’d like to admit.”

I keep quiet when we pass some monsters, trying to collect my thoughts. “He often stole my money just to buy a few more bottles before withdrawal set in. It’s not like I could fight it when he had control of my account and my sister’s life was at stake. Then again, he was even worse when he didn’t have a taste after a couple days. It actually made his mind sharper, and he’d think of more sadistic methods to torture us.”

I rub the back of my neck without thinking and catch myself, remembering the look in his eyes when he tied me to that tree. I wasn’t his daughter in that moment; I was an animal to abuse because he needed something to hurt more than himself.

Sans watches my every move with a keen eye, and I stuff my hands in my pockets, trying to ignore the memory now written on my back.

“So the stuff kinda scares me; every time I smell it I just see the rage in his eyes, and I expect to feel a hand hit my face.”

Sans’ eyes darken, “Those two monsters had no idea just how cruel they were to you.”

“I can see how they got a good laugh out of my reaction, but it was pretty humiliating to be reminded of those memories in front of a bunch of people.” 

“I’m sorry I took you in there.”

“It’s not your fault; you didn’t know. Besides, those fries were good enough for me to pay Grillby’s another visit someday,” I give him a small smile.

“Are you sure about that?” he asks.

“Absolutely, I’ll play it off with a joke or something if those two are in there again. I just hope Grillby isn’t too mad at me for breaking the glass.”

“He said your compensation was enough and that he maybe should have asked if you were even able to drink the stuff.”

“I thought it was weird that monsters don’t seem to have drinking laws.” 

“Apparently they do, but it’s more of an honors system in which if you sit at the counter, you’re allowed.”

I scoff, “Typical.”

“What’s it like on the Surface?”

“It varies depending on the country, but where I’m from, you have to be twenty-one, and you have to carry an ID in case they’re suspicious about your age.”

“Just how old are you? I don’t think I’ve ever asked,” Sans says, looking slightly guilty.

I smirk, “Fifteen.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you get older every year on the day you were born, which means you’ll be sixteen in November.”

I raise an eyebrow, “How do you know that?”

“It’s on the calendar.”

“Oh,” I say, remembering when I wrote it.

“What? Is that a bad thing?”

“No, but… it’s really nothing important.”

He squints at me, “Oh, I get it. You don’t want to be the center of attention, do ya?”

“I never said that.”

“But downgrading your birthday did! I’m going to have fun with this,” he says, smiling slyly.

“What?”

“Come on, it’s a day to celebrate! I’ve seen families in Snowdin do it. I mean we just saw Merrick’s family celebrate his tenth birthday a couple weeks ago. How could you think I’d ignore yours?”

“Honestly? I forgot that it’s coming up, and maybe I was hoping it’d slip by without mattering.”

“You’re out of luck now sis, cuz I’m already starting to plan things.”  

I roll my eyes, “Oh really?”

“Yep, and I’m gonna make sure it will be the best you’ve had in years.”

“Well there’s not much competition; if you buy me a cinnamon bun it’ll already be in my top five.”

“I’m gonna try to do a little better than that,” he says as we reach the bridge leading into Hotland. I stop, knowing for sure that we were nowhere near this spot; we had just barely made it to the Ponds.

“Sans…” I say cautiously, stopping right before the bridge.

“What’s up?” he asks, completely unfazed.

I look down at Cody and he seems to be as confused as I am.

“How did we get here?”

“We walked,” he says with a shrug. “Boy, I guess our conversations are so captivating that we ignore our surroundings, don’t we?” 

“No, no, no, I  _ know  _ where we were, and there was a lot more of Waterfall to travel through.”

He just smiles, probably reveling in whatever little secret he has.

“Come on, out with it. What did you do?” I ask. “What have you  _ been  _ doing all those times you popped up out of nowhere?”  

“Well, it’s a factor of my magic. If I wanna go somewhere, then I just imagine it and I can get there in seconds. I wanted to see if it could work with others. Pretty cool, huh?”

“So… you can  _ teleport _ ?” I ask, trying to comprehend that kind of power.

“Is that what it’s called? I’d like to think of it as a ‘shortcut.’”

I laugh a bit, all this time he’s had this power and now he tells me about it. Granted, I’ve been slow with revealing my secrets too. “Anything else you want to tell me about?”

“I’ve got something else… but I wanna save it for when we spar,” he says slyly.

I roll my eyes, “Fine, but then we’re shortcutting over the lava so I don’t have to cross the bridge.”

“No problem,” he says, probably realizing I’ve dealt with enough reminders of childhood terrors for the day.


	24. A Recipe Worth Cherishing

One thing’s for certain: Hotland is  _ massive  _ in comparison to any other area of the Underground. It’s composed of three different levels with various dead ends, elevators, and so much  _ lava _ . Sans gives me a tour level by level, and I didn’t realize I was signing up for an endurance game when I agreed to this. Because  _ seriously _ , there are so many puzzles, lasers, conveyor belts, and things called steam vents that I’m a little afraid for my life. The most unfortunate part is that the steam vents are the only way to get from one chunk of the path to the next, just a couple feet above the lava. I’d much rather have the bridge at this point, and as much as I ask Sans to use his shortcut magic, he shakes his head. While we did shortcut past the bridge, he refuses to do it anywhere else.

“You’re gonna have to get over it. I won’t say the same thing about alcohol, but come on Krista, this is just because you saw something in a movie when you were four,” he says from the other side of the path after jumping off the steam vent with ease. Cody sits beside him, seemingly thrilled by the jump. How could my  _ dog  _ be braver than me?

I sneer at Sans and try a different tactic. “Fine then,” I say, creating a bridge of my own magic, complete with tall railings. “I just won’t use them.”

“Scaredy bones,” he says with a smug smirk.

“Watch it, buddy,” I say, pointing a finger.

He chuckles and leads me along the winding orange path that suddenly turns into a blue and yellow dotted floor. The sharp contrast makes me pause, and I don’t even realize what I’m looking at until he stands behind the counter at the front of the room and mimics a certain host we now know all too well.

“And now ladies and gentlemen, we will use the MTT-branded cake to make, you guessed it, an even bigger MTT-branded cake shaped like me!”

I stifle a laugh at his impression, “And don’t forget the MTT-branded candles to top it all off in a celebration of me! You three viewers are quite lucky to experience such a historical event!”

We bust out laughing and Sans looks into the fridge that lines the back wall of this very obvious TV-studio. The only question is why the hell is it just out here in the middle of Hotland? There’s another counter, a microwave, and an oven along the wall that I’m still not sure if they’re props or not. 

“It’s a real fridge, but they don’t keep food in it on a normal basis, damn,” Sans says, shutting the door.

“I never thought I’d get the chance to tour a real set for a TV show, guess that’s another one to check off my non-existent bucket list,” I say, turning on the stove. A blue flame jumps up and I nod in appreciation, at least Mettaton “does his own stunts.”

“Man, Papyrus would flip if he knew we were here,” Sans says, looking in the drawers under the counters. I only turned on the stove to test my suspicious, but he doesn’t seem to care about invading the space to find all its secrets.

“Why don’t we bring him sometime? Who knows? Maybe we could stumble upon a live show and he could be on TV?”

“Hey, that’s a great idea; I’ll have to convince him sometime,” Sans says, slamming one last drawer shut before leading Cody and me back to the orange path. The sight to our left makes me stop in my tracks and Sans nods in acknowledgement.

“Yep, that’s the Core. Of course, I only knew because it was last month’s picture on the calendar.”

The lava surrounding it is sweltering and I finally take off my coat and tie it around my waist, still pretty hot in my blue long-sleeve shirt with pink roses.

“You’re not hot with all this lava?” I ask, fanning my face.

“What do you think I am?” he asks with a smirk.

“Right, right, I get it,” I say, looking down at Cody to see him panting heavily. “Let’s just go to the elevator.”

The path ends with an elevator labeled  _ R1 _ , signifying the right side of the first level. He takes us to the second one, and the doors open up a short distance away from his sentry station.

“So this is where you kill time all day,” I put my hands on my hips, observing the station designed exactly like mine. 

Sans kicks back in a chair behind the counter and smirks, “Yep, can you see why I’ve slacked a little? It’s pretty boring out here; there’s barely anyone around. It’s quite tiring to stay on alert in hopes that a human will walk by.”

“I get what you mean,” I say observing the lines of red light running through the dark walls behind him.

“But wait, I’m on duty right now,” he says, slowly standing up. ”And… I’ve never seen a human in front of my station… until today!”

I roll my eyes, “How shocking that I don’t see them.”

“Oh no! The human is trying to be one of us! What can I do?”

“You can give me a tour of the rest of Hotland so I can get out of this miserable heat.” I gesture to Cody, “Look at this poor guy, fluffy marshmallows are meant for the cold! They’ll melt if you stick them in hot chocolate!”

Cody whines at our dumb conversation and struts off down the path, giving us one bark as if to say he’ll wait for when we’re mature enough to continue. 

I gasp, “Puppy thinks he’s better than us!”

“Not for long,” Sans says, grabbing something wrapped in white paper from under his station and whistling for Cody. Our puppy’s ears perk up and he looks back. “Will this change your mind?” he asks, unfolding the paper and revealing a hot dog.

Cody takes off in a sprint and leaps onto the station counter, just barely missing the food as Sans lifts it out of his reach. “Uh-huh, not so high and mighty now,” he laughs, stepping around the station and heading down the path. 

“Where’d you get that?” I ask, walking beside him with Cody blindly following, his eyes fixated on the food.

“MTT Resort has got some interesting cuisine, so I thought, ‘Why not sell some out here so people don’t have to travel too far’?”

“Are you making a profit?”

“Somewhat,” he shrugs, “but then again, I don’t see too many people out here.”

He breaks off a piece of the hot dog and tosses it to Cody, making the puppy greedily scarf up the scrap.

“You’re acting like I didn’t just feed you this morning,” I say and Cody gives me an innocent look as if to respond, “ _ But you could always feed me more _ .”

“Want some?” Sans asks, offering me what’s left.

Considering how little I’ve eaten today, the food does remind me that I’m hungry. I break off half of the remaining hot dog and try it, surprised that it’s cooked pretty well.

“Fun fact: they’re made of those water sausage plants,” Sans says.

My eyebrows shoot up, “You mean cattails?”

“Uh, maybe? Is that what they’re called on the Surface?”

A shudder runs through me, but I force myself to swallow the food. “I really hope there was some magic manipulation because cattails are not supposed to taste like hot dogs.”

“What are they supposed to taste like?”

“While I’ve heard cattails are edible, they’re definitely unusual to eat. I can’t tell you what they’re supposed to taste like, but it’s definitely not hot dog.”

“Maybe they’re a good substitute?”

“Probably,” I respond as we travel over a conveyor belt and bypass a steam vent puzzle with my magic. 

“You know Papyrus would be pretty disappointed if he knew you were ignoring puzzles,” Sans says with a smirk.

“Oh, he knows they’re not my thing. If he were here, I’d gladly try to help, but I’m not going to waste an hour trying to figure it out on my own.”

“Such laziness,” he points a finger as if ignoring puzzles is a truly despicable act.

“Says the guy who’s slacked off multiple times.”

“Oh yeah, don’t tell my boss; I still can’t tell if she likes me.”

“Same here.”

The path takes several sharp turns before we wind up looking at the Core again, fixated at its spot in an ocean of lava.

“You know… as much as I don’t like to admit it,” I start.

“Then don’t,” Sans says, already knowing where I’m going with this.

“But it’s true; I couldn’t design something like that,” I gesture to the Core.

“Yeah and neither can the rest of the Underground, but guess what else they haven’t done?” he taps his gloved right hand.

“I know, but at least he did  _ some  _ good things, including creating you, despite how misguided his intentions were.”

“And it’s those intentions that make his actions unforgivable. He could’ve stopped at any time, but he didn’t,” Sans scoffs, heading toward an elevator labeled  _ L2 _ . “Look where that got him.”

“If I remember correctly,  _ you  _ would have shared the same fate if Papyrus hadn’t caught you.” He freezes, still facing away from me. “I think that says a lot about  _ your  _ intentions... and how little you valued your life.”

Sans’ chuckle is dark in response, and Cody whimpers a bit, noticing the shift in our moods. “Are we gonna do this now?”

“For all you tell me about how I should believe in myself and trust you; I don’t feel like that sentiment is being reciprocated.”

He sighs, “Fine, I didn’t think it mattered whether I lived or died once he was gone. When the opportunity presented itself to kill him… I didn’t care about what would happen to me. The only thing that mattered was ensuring he would never hurt Papyrus again. And I… I had hurt Papyrus a couple times in the lab, so why would it matter if I was gone, too?”

The utter sense of defeat in his voice makes me ache, but a small part of me is glad that we’re finally discussing this. “You didn’t think he would need you?”

“I knew he’d be fine without me, and look, he forgot everything anyway so he wouldn’t have had to miss me if I did die. Win-win.”

I see the reasoning, but… the assumption that Papyrus would have been fine alone, that’s something I can’t accept. “But you didn’t know that he’d forget, which means you would have been abandoning him in an unknown world all by himself. You were everything good in his life; how could you have thought he’d be  _ fine _ ?” 

“Well things  _ didn’t  _ work out that way so there’s no point in considering the alternatives,” he says, attempting to shut down the conversation.

“But you didn’t think about it beforehand?” I press, baffled by the carelessness.

“What’s your point, Krista? That you’re better than me because you didn’t kill your father until  _ after you let him kill your sister _ ? That you were oh-so-noble in taking the punishment for her since you couldn’t escape? Well guess what? I  _ couldn’t  _ take the punishment,  _ Papyrus did _ ! So the least I could’ve done was end my life if it meant he would never suffer again!”

He might as well have shredded my SOUL for how painful his words are, and that single phrase echoes in my head. _ You let him kill your sister _ . As if I had a choice, as if there was nothing stopping me and I didn’t care. 

I have to take a step back and then another and another as the words play on a loop, transforming into my own hateful thoughts that I’ve been trying to bury.  _ You let him kill your sister _ .  _ You let him kill Mable _ . _ You could have stopped him, but you were too weak. You’re pathetic. You’re unworthy. You’re not enough. Not enough. Not enough.  _

Sans’ eye sockets widen as he realizes the effect of his words, “Krista-”

I turn away and walk back down the path, not getting very far as I turn the corner and collapse, leaning against the rock wall. I hear Cody bark once and Sans appears in my peripheral vision.

“Krista-”

“Is that what you think of me?” I whisper. “A martyr who never cared about her sister?”

“Kr-”

“And to think… I actually thought you cared about me, but I see now that you don’t think I’m capable of love. I’m just as evil as him in your eyes because I let Mable suffer with me rather than dying with my father to end it all.”

“That’s not true. I was just venting because I wish I could’ve taken the pain. I wish I carried scars because they show what you’re willing to sacrifice. Instead, I never did anything useful. Ending my life was the best way of showing Papyrus what he meant to me. It’s what I was willing to sacrifice for him.”

“And because I’m still alive, it’s clear that my sister meant nothing to me,” I say, completely detached as I stare at the wall.  _ You let him kill your sister _ .

Sans sighs, “No, not at all. I’m sorry, Krista. Remembering those times just makes me so angry that I want to take it out on the world. You were just trying to survive like I was, and the circumstances went worse for you. I… I can’t even  _ imagine  _ how painful it must be to lose a sibling, especially since she was all you had.”

I don’t say anything because his words barely register in my mind. All I hear is that single accusation, the one that sums up how little worth my life has.

“I should have died,” I say, my words devoid of any emotion. “I don’t care when, but I should have died a long time ago. I deserved much worse in the lab, and I deserved worse from my father. There isn’t enough torture for me to endure that could make up for my failure. My  _ weakness _ . I should be dead right now, not Mable.”

“You’re delusional,” Sans snaps and the word surprises me enough to make eye contact with him. 

“Why? You said it yourself, I  _ let him kill her _ .”

“Yeah and I said it out of anger, not honesty. Which is another thing, you cling to any lie someone says that makes you think you have no worth. How can you even think that your life hasn’t been bad enough?”

“There’s always worse.”

He scoffs, “And it’s okay in your eyes because ‘ _ you’re you _ ,’ right?”

“It seems you’ve got me figured out: selfish, pathetic, and useless.”

He sighs and sits down to my right, “What can I do to make you change your mind?”

My laugh is so harsh, Sans winces, “Nothing, sorry I pressed the issue. What you did was right in every aspect.”

“No, it wasn’t. You made a good point, and I’m just so sensitive that I lashed out and said the worst possible response. You did everything in your power to protect Mable, and there is no one who would’ve been a better sister for her than you. I hope I can be worthy of that honor someday.”

I smirk, “You are.”

“Not after what I just said.”

I sigh and rub my hairline, turning to face him, “All siblings fight at some point, but no matter what we say, it shouldn’t be harsh enough to destroy our relationship. I forgive you.”

He looks down, “I don’t think you should forgive me that easily.”

“Well I am, because I know that anger, and it’s driven me to say some pretty terrible things, too.”

I stand up and offer him my hand; he takes it with a slight expression of awe. “How do you do it?”

“What?”

“Just... move on so easily?”

“I’ve realized that dwelling on the misery is a trap, something that you’ll never escape if you can’t look beyond it. Sure, I’ll probably think and say what I said earlier again someday, but for now, I’m going to push that hatred aside. What is there to enjoy in life if you can’t settle with the things you’ve done? Reminding yourself every second of the day that you’re a terrible person will get you nowhere.”

We start to head back to the elevator, and I see him glancing at me in the corner of my eye. “I guess you are a true Perseverant then, a fighter no matter what.”

“Maybe, but I wasn’t like that my first month in the lab. What I experienced then has actually made me reach my mindset now: I’ll never be happy if I can’t leave the past behind.”

We make it to the elevator where Cody sits, as if he was waiting for us to resolve our issue before allowing us to move on. He peers at both of us, asking if we’re good.

“I think we’re better, right brother?” I ask Sans.

A hint of a smile returns to his face, “As long as you are, sis.”

“Then we’re moving on.”

***

The elevator takes us to the third level, a complete contrast to the two we’ve seen so far. The ground is a light pink-red and there isn’t a speck of lava in sight. A few steps down the path and we stop in our tracks when a familiar-looking monster appears from behind a corner. 

“It can’t be,” I whisper.

The monster almost looks like an exact recolor of the creature that appeared in the attic that first night. The biggest difference is that instead of a head clutched in its left hand, it’s a pink donut. 

“Hey, don’t trust the girl that lives on the other side of the gate! She’ll cheat you out of 10,000G if she can, don’t give her the satisfaction!” he yells, walking past us with a slight limp.

His voice doesn’t sound anything like the creature’s, it’s whiny and trembling rather than deep and commanding. Most of the monster’s body is bright yellow with light blue facial features. The most disturbing factor is that his expression doesn’t change while he talks, and his mouth never moves either. However, he seems fairly friendly, which makes it all the question of what his relation is to the creature.

“Uh, thanks for the heads-up,” Sans says.

“Yep, good luck!” the monster responds, entering the elevator and shutting the doors.

“What the hell?” I ask, pointing in the direction of where he went.

“Maybe a distant relative?” Sans asks.

“I doubt it; there’s something bigger going on.”

“Something that we can’t just go searching for so we might as well try to ignore it.”

“Yeah, until it pops out of nowhere and kills us,” I mutter, my eyes catching the sight of a table farther down the path. Only a few steps forward and I notice something…  _ off  _ about the scene. The table has eight legs and the obsidian walls around us shine with sharp lines, like webs. A pink and white checkered table cloth covers the top with a piece of paper that says, “ _ Please see Miss Muffet for pastries! _ ”

A small sign stands to the right of the table, reading, “ _ Spider Bake Sale. All proceeds go to real spiders. _ ”  

“ _ Spiders _ ?” I say, feeling a chill at the idea of those creepy crawlies making  _ pastries _ .

“What are they?” Sans asks.  

“I guess you’re gonna find out soon.”

We travel through another maze of steam vents and pass the “gate” that monster had mentioned, rounding a corner to see the red path turn to black. The webs reappear on the walls and the entrance to a tunnel stands before us. The smooth stone arching over the entrance is painted a dark shade of amethyst and we enter a dimly lit hallway.

Webs shimmer in the gray and purple light of the room, the most intimidating being long strands swooping over the walls and hanging from the ceiling like chandeliers. Others are in patches on the ground that group together until they cover the entire path.

I catch movement above me and see tiny purple spiders ascending to the distant ceiling. Cody makes a soft whine and keeps close to me, his head turning in every direction.

“Ahuhuhu, do my eyes deceive me? Or is that a human I see?” a soft, girlish voice echoes through the cavern.

I send out a sense of magic to find the SOUL of the speaker, but I pick up on so many that it’s impossible to tell which one it is.

“I heard that humans are violent creatures. I heard they hate spiders,” the voice continues.

We reach the part in the path where the webs are their thickest, and I pick up Cody so he won’t get stuck.

“I heard… that they’re awfully stingy with their money,” the voice says, her tone dripping with disgust.

The webs below us suddenly shoot up from the ground and tie our arms to our sides, making me drop Cody. He lands on his feet with a yelp and the webs catch him too.

A massive, flower-shaped web appears before us, floating just off the path with a giant purple-gray spider on it. She wears red rompers with a matching bow tied at the base of her throat. Dark purple long-sleeves cover her six arms and black boots complete her outfit, extending up past her shorts. Small chunks of her short black hair are tied up into two ponytails with red ribbons and long fangs poke out of her grinning mouth.

Her five eyes peer at us with curiosity, and she giggles, “Ahuhuhu, well you three are an interesting trio. I’ve only heard stories about humans and skeletons; it seems you dearies are as unfamiliar with spiders as I am with your kinds. I’ll ignore my prior judgements if you can prove to me that you’re the humble types.”

She approaches me and my stomach tightens as the spider towers over me by at least a foot. Despite my fear, I force myself to speak, “I assume you are Miss Muffet?”

“Oh my, you’ve heard of me? Well, I’m quite flattered, little human. Unfortunately, I’ve never heard of you, but then again, spiders are quite adept at establishing reputations for themselves.”

“What do you want?” Sans asks.

“Ahuhuhu, I am merely curious if you’ll enjoy my pastries; they are the best from here to Snowdin. However, a fair  _ sum  _ would be required of you to pay.”

“How much?” I ask, hoping an offer will convince her to get the hell away from me.

“Oh, I don’t know… 7000G?”

I hear the other spiders snicker, and Muffet smiles broadly, her fangs glittering in the dim light. 

“What makes you think we can even afford that?” I snap, starting to itch from the webs sticking to my hands.

“True, your clothes do lack taste and refinement, but my last customer was willing to pay 9500G, I think that says a lot about the quality of our pastries.”

“Or you’re just a bully who rips people off,” I hiss.

She places a hand on the hollow of her throat in offense, “Oh my, you’re quite a temperamental little thing, aren’t you? My pet would love to meet you.” She covers her mouth with a giggle, “Come dearie, I invite you to my parlor. Here, you will see just what your low-life tastes are missing out on.”

The webs tied to me suddenly shoot up at an unbelievable speed, stopping just before I hit a thick cloud of webs.

“Hmm, your SOUL is quite beautiful; I absolutely  _ adore  _ purple,” Muffet hums, nimbly strutting from strand to strand of web. “What a shame such beauty is wasted on a rude,  _ stingy  _ human.”

I look down to see that I’m a few stories up, and Sans’ coat is nothing more than a smudge of blue against the gray-white floor.

“What are you going to do? Kill me because I can’t pay your outrageous price for something I don’t even want?” I snap, fed up with this game already.

“Oh no, no, no, a good pastry chef would never dirty her hands with the  _ filth  _ of human  _ blood _ . However, my pet is quite hungry, and he may very well eat you if you can’t prove your worth.”

“My worth?”

“Why yes, little human. You see, the beauty of your SOUL intrigues me. It makes me hope there’s more to you beyond that brash attitude and dull outfit. If you survive, I will send you off with an apology and pastries for putting you through this. If you die or surrender, then I’ll charge you or your friends  _ triple  _ my original price for trespassing in my parlor with insufficient funds. Does that sound like a proper deal?”

“I doubt I have a choice,” I respond, accepting that this is how things will go.

She giggles, “Ahuhuhu, I like your compliance. Now, now, my pet! It’s lunchtime!”

In the cloud of webs above me, a creature stirs within them, growling. “Win or lose, I bid you adieu, dearie!” Muffet says sweetly, sliding down a strand of web.

My eyes widen as I realize she’s just going to abandon me like this, still tied up in thick ropes of web. The creature growls again before it rears its head out of the cobwebs, its mouth so large it could swallow ten of me at once.

My heart nearly stops, but I keep enough sense to form a small dagger and cut myself out of the webs. I catch about five sturdy strands before completely untangling from the trap, fighting to ignore just how high up I am.

Muffet’s pet narrows its giant eyes on me and roars, dropping down to swallow me whole. I shriek and fling myself as far to the left as possible, getting caught in a dense web. The creature gets it bearings and looks up from its place about forty feet below. I gasp as I take in its appearance, so much like a spider with its multiple eyes and legs, but its body is a  _ cupcake _ . Or muffin, whatever.

“Ahuhuhu, look at the little human fly! Time to drain its blood, my pet,” Muffet muses somewhere within the webs. Her pet roars, barreling up at me at a baffling speed considering its size.

I hear someone say, “Psst!” and I look up to see those tiny purple spiders gathered in the web above me. They weave the web into a ladder and I climb without hesitation, although the back of my mind asks why they’re defying their mistress.

“Oh, children! You know that’s against the rules!” Muffet calls, although she doesn’t sound too upset about it. Some of them obey her and stop weaving, jumping down to crawl onto my skin. I dodge as best as I can, creating a harmless shield above my head to ensure they won’t touch me. I don’t want to know what the consequences would be if I hurt one of her “children,” so I do my best to ensure they’re unharmed while staying alive myself.

The creature keeps coming, but I persevere, climbing higher and higher. In fact, I almost think I can make out the bright white and purple Ceiling Stars shining through the dense cobwebs when a voice disrupts my focus.

“Watch out!” a spider calls as a croissant comes barreling towards my head. I duck and it comes spinning back to slam into my arm; its impact is as painful as if someone had chucked a rock at me.

The creature roars again and I scramble up the ladder, trying to hold my shield while also not succumbing to panic.

“You’ve got more to worry about than that, dearie,” Muffet chirps in the distance. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a bright pink donut zooming towards me, and I can’t react fast enough as it impacts my arm harder than the croissant, throwing me off the ladder. I scream as I begin to fall, straight towards the creature’s mouth when I suddenly stop in midair. 

My SOUL glows in front of me with a ring of blue around it, and I spot Sans on a web ladder about twenty feet below me, his hand outstretched and shining with blue magic.

His eyes are black pits as he says, “I’ve got you.”

Muffet’s pet ascends faster now and Sans moves me out of its path, far on the other side of the cavern. He lets me go when I catch a new ladder and grip the web with trembling limbs, my blood pounding in my ears.

“Ahuhuhu! I can’t believe my eyes! Oh my poor pet, it seems you won’t have a special meal today,” Muffet says and I can’t tell if she’s angry or if she’s complementing us.

The creature groans in disappointment and heads up to a higher cloud of webs, not even glancing in our direction.

“You have done well dearies! While I would have liked the entertainment to continue for much longer, that blue magic seems to be too effective for these circumstances,” Muffet says, frowning. “But anyway! I am sorry I misjudged you, human. That beauty in your SOUL is rightfully yours as you clearly don’t wish to harm us. However, you’re still a bit too  _ stingy  _ for my tastes...” 

I squint at her and dig two 500G coins out of my pocket, “Will this cover a box of donuts?”

Muffet laughs, “Why yes it will! I’ll even throw in a jug of Spider Cider for your daring survival tactics. Maybe you can come back to play sometime, show some cowardly monsters a trick or two.”

“What a delightful offer, but I think not,” I say, mimicking her cheery tone.

Miss Muffet giggles, “Ah, and there’s the humility I was searching for. You’re truly a winning recipe in my cookbook.” 

***

Despite Sans’ protests, we push on to see the last remaining areas of Hotland. He refuses to let me carry the box of donuts or the cider, claiming he saw how hard Muffet’s pastry bullets hit me and knows how much my arms hurt. I don’t admit it, but it’s true that I can already feel the bruises forming in both spots. It doesn’t help that my fingers ache from climbing the rungs of the ladders. In the moment, it didn’t feel like I was doing it for long, but Sans says it was a good ten minutes. Apparently, Muffet was keeping a good hold on him while her pet chased me, and it was only when she moved to throw bullets did Sans get free. Everything happened so fast in my eyes that I’m just grateful that he caught me, but he shrugs off my thanks and says it’s the least he could do in light of what he said earlier. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to spend the rest of the day trying to make up for it now,” I say in response.

“I don’t think I can, but I’m sure gonna try. Honestly, I shouldn't have let Muffet go that far. I mean, you could have  _ died _ ,” he says, his eyes dropping to the ground.

“Hey, what matters is that we survived, and no matter what happens in the future, we can survive that too, if we trust each other.”

He nods, “Okay.”

The black path of the spider cavern ends as we exit the tunnel, transitioning into purple and then blue. I realize we’re on another TV set as the blue is the color of a sound stage, facing a gigantic theatre.

“Whoa,” I have to say, in awe of the thousands of chairs climbing high into the rafters. Deep blue Ceiling Stars illuminate the room, casting the gray chairs in a ghostly light. “If only I had some sort of talent to perform.”

“Your magic’s pretty cool,” Sans says, his eyes telling me the idea of so many people watching intimidates him.

“Yeah but, when I think of a stage like this… I think of someone using their voice or an instrument. Someone who is the single focal point of attention, and they barely have to move to fascinate the audience.”

“Well… while I love your voice, you’re not the best singer,” Sans says with a smirk.

I laugh, remembering just the other week when we found a channel full of music with vocals. Yeah, none of us are good singers, but I’d like to think we’re cool enough to impress ourselves. “No, I couldn’t sing in front of thousands, but I do like to imagine how thrilling it must be to just do what you love and know that so many people came to watch.”

“We should ask Mettaton,” Sans says jokingly and we head off the stage back onto the orange path.

“Yeah, where is he?” I ask.

“Funny you should mention that,” Sans says, turning left and climbing a flight of stairs. I raise an eyebrow at Cody and he barks as if he already knows where this is going.

After a short hallway, the grand entrance to MTT Resort reveals itself in all its glittering glory. A salmon-colored carpet is rolled out in front of the golden double doors, and their respective handles combine to form an  _ M _ . The letters  _ MTT _ arc over the doors with figures of Mettaton’s square body on either side. Bright green bushes stand on both sides of the doors and five windows glow with warm yellow light.

“Is it too snobby of me to say I expected something grander from someone like him?” I ask.

Sans chuckles, “Yeah, you’d think the carpet and the bushes would be gold, too.”

He opens the left door for me and Cody rushes in before I can take a step. “Well, puppies first, then,” I say, rolling my eyes, wondering what he’s so excited about.

The resort glows that same bright yellow as outside, only ten times worse as the yellow checkered floor reflects the brightness. Just a few steps in and I almost run into a fountain with a statue of Mettaton in it, spitting the water out onto the floor.

“It’s always strange to see something you saw on TV in real life,” I say, examining the room.

“Welcome to MTT Resort! Hotland’s biggest apartment building turned hotel!” a small origami-looking monster says to our right, her little body is shaped like a disjointed star. “Oh wait, hiya Sans! Welcome back!”

“Great to be back,” Sans says as if he’s a returning comedian at a show.

The little monster turns back to the door and we walk around the fountain. “How many times have you been here?” I ask.

“Just twice, they’ve got some pretty good food here, too. Speaking of which, I think Cody’s looking for some handouts.”

He points to closed double doors on the other side of the room where Cody pants and scrapes on the glass, staring at whatever’s inside. Above the doors is the  _ MTT _ logo with a burger next to it.

“Hey! Cody, you don’t beg from strangers,” I say, walking over and picking him up. He barks in protest and I see an orange, cat-like monster behind a counter inside. His grin is pretty weak as he waves us off like it’s no big deal, but I still frown at my puppy.

“You act like I don’t feed you,” I say, shaking my head.

Sans smirks, “Heh, maybe he’s-”

The front doors slam open and in rolls the star himself: Mettaton. “Hello everyone! How are you lovelies doing today?” he announces at the grand number of three other people in the room. “Oh! We have new visitors?” the robot asks, spotting us on the other side of the fountain. “Well, who might you b-”

He cuts himself off when he sees me despite lacking visible eyes. “Heh, uh…  _ human _ ?” he stutters.

“Sorry, I can’t afford your MTT-branded clothes,” I try to joke, unsure of what he thinks of me.

“Human…  _ human _ … Marcie!” he yells.

“Y-Yes sir?” the origami monster asks.

“Could you please retrieve my…  _ human-greeting _ kit?” he asks in that pleasant announcer’s voice. “And prepare a concert, invite everyone in the Underground!”

“Uh-uh,  _ now _ ?” she asks.

“Yes! Now! Don’t waste a second!” her boss responds. 

Marcie scrambles down a hallway to our left, and I feel dread tighten my throat.

“We don’t want any trouble,” I say, carefully putting Cody on the ground. He turns and walks behind me as if this conversation bores him.

“Oh, I don’t either,” the robot says elegantly. “Instead, I want enthusiasm and cooperation. Things will go much more professionally if you don’t fuss.”

“That sounds like trouble to me,” Sans says, taking a step forward.

I hear doors open behind me, and I turn to see an elevator I didn’t notice to the right of the burger place. Cody stands inside and barks at me to follow.

“ _ Go _ ,” Sans hisses as Mettaton begins to approach us at a lazy pace.

“What about you?” I ask.

“Am I the one with the purple SOUL?” he demands, convincing me to back up into the elevator. “I’ll be fine,  _ you  _ focus on getting home.”

“What’s the matter, darlings?” Mettaton asks, now almost past the fountain.

I hit the highest number on the wall behind me, unsure of where exactly I’ll end up, and the doors  _ painfully  _ close at the slowest pace I’ve ever seen.

The robot laughs a cold, empty sound, “Oh  _ darling _ , you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life,” before the doors seal shut.


	25. Traumatized By Glitter

I can’t tell if we’re going up or down, just that the elevator is moving _somewhere_. Cody looks up at me, his little face tight with concern. I stroke his head, knowing it will calm him just as much as it’ll calm me, “You smart puppy, I’ll have to give you a bunch of table scraps tonight.” His expression doesn’t change, but his tail wags the slightest bit. “I guess you could tell he was bad news from the start?”

Cody nods and the doors open at that same sluggish pace, revealing a dim hallway that brings a rush of cold air into the elevator. I get a chill and untie my coat from my waist, slipping it on.

“Let’s see where we are,” I say, walking into the ancient-looking hall with its rough, uneven stone walls and rugged path. “Interesting,” I whisper, considering that even Waterfall has smoother stone than this.

The light at the end of the hall just barely illuminates enough for me to make out that the path splits into two stairwells, one ascending to the left and one descending to the right. The gray Ceiling Stars continue into what looks like black light to the right, while they brighten to white on the left.

“What do you think?” I ask Cody. He whimpers and puts his paws on the left stairwell. “Yeah, that looks like the wiser option.”

I look back at the elevator, wondering if either Sans or Mettaton will show up. When I think of what kind of chase will ensue if I wait around for the latter, I turn away.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say, ushering Cody up the left case when I hear a voice so clear, I can almost truly believe it’s her.

“Krista?” my sister asks.

I freeze, immediately knowing this is some sort of trick. I’m not stupid enough to go careening down the right stairwell just because of her _voice_. The voice of a dead girl. Cody whines to get my attention, motivating me to move. I wave him forward, taking cautious steps behind him.

“Are you just going to ignore me like that?” she asks, sounding so, _so real_ . Whoever it is must be a masterful mimic because they got that annoyed lilt she always had _on point_.

I keep going and she scoffs, “I guess that’s what you’re best at, running away whenever something hurts or scares you.”

I sigh, “I guess I am.”

“Whatcha talking about?” Flowey asks, popping out of the stone in front of me.

I gasp and veer back, stumbling down a few steps until I’m back at the crossroads. “What the _hell_ , man? Get away from me.”

“That uh, little girl seems to want to talk to you,” he says peering over my shoulder.

“Well I don’t want to talk to _her_ , so get out of my way and leave me alone,” I hiss.

“Are you sure? Because she’s crying,” he says, seemingly concerned.

“I don’t care,” I snap.

“She’s got dark hair like yours and green eyes. Ooo, a Kindness SOUL!”

My throat tightens so much I can barely breathe. _Mable_ , or more precisely, some image of her, is standing behind me. I try to keep my composure, “You’re not at all questioning how she got here?”

“Why should I? I mean, _you_ showed up out of nowhere, too!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I grumble, trying to push past him when he holds up a root.

“Uh, don’t you want to see her?”

“ _No_.”

“You know, Krista. I actually uh, saw my sister down there. It helped me reach some real closure.”

Despite Flowey’s forced cheerfulness, I see fear in his black eyes. Something _very wrong_ is down there, and it’s just chomping at the bit to leach any inch of terror out of us. At least that means Flowey is at risk here, too.

“Come on, Cody,” I say and Flowey ties a root around my puppy, making him yelp in pain.

“Don’t worry, to everyone else, that staircase just leads to a dead end, but for those of us who _remember_ , well... I’d like to think it means there’s a special place in hell for us.”

I form a sword and hold it inches from Flowey’s stem, “You let him go or things are gonna get _really_ messy.”

Flowey smirks and unravels his root; I lunge forward and pick Cody up, keeping him as close as possible.

“I won’t bother you too much since Mettaton seems to be preparing for some real fun. But I’ll warn you now… once I get bored, and I promise you, I _will_ get bored, I’m gonna see if you’ll remember after a Reset. If you do, then we’re gonna have an interesting conversation. If you don’t,” he gives me a wicked smile, revealing teeth I never noticed he had, “I promise you won’t feel a thing between Save points.”

Then he drops under the stone and I sprint up the steps, refusing to linger so close to the other staircase. Flowey’s threat doesn’t surprise me; it just makes me fear how much time I have before I need to know how to prevent a Reset. Of course, I still have no idea how I’m going to figure it out.

The air warms as I climb and the steps begin to curve to the right, transforming into a spiral staircase. After what feels like ten minutes, they finally stop at a short hallway that opens to a dressing room. Thankfully, it's silent as I step around costumes and props, recognizing some of them from Mettaton’s numerous shows. I reach a door on the other side of the room that leads into another dressing room, also packed with similar items. I'm halfway across when I hear a muffled voice in the next room. Should I go back? Do I want to risk discovery from whoever they are? Or would it be more dangerous if I went back to the elevator?

I don't have a choice when a pink lion wearing a headset opens the door and smiles at the sight of me.

“Oh, there you are! And perfect timing, too! The show’s about to start in fifteen minutes, and you’re his guest of honor!”

“What?” I ask, holding Cody close.

The lion laughs, “You _are_ the human Mettaton described, aren't you? He said you'd wind up somewhere backstage.”

I back up a step, “N- no I’m not.”

She smiles, “It’s okay, sweetheart! We all get a little stage fright, just remember to smile and keep up with his fast pace. A bored audience will make the views suffer!”

She waves me forward into the next room, one that is a long, narrow hallway that leads to what appears to be a gigantic gray stage.

“Sir, the human is ready,” the lion says into her headset and upbeat electronic music begins to play from speakers somewhere. How am I going to get out of this?

“Oh, you don’t need your puppy there. I’ll take good care of him until the show’s over,” the lion says, holding her arms out for Cody.

He growls lightly and I take a step back, “He stays with me.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m afraid he’d only get caught in the crossfire.”

“ _What_?” I ask.

Her eyes widen, “I mean uh, he’ll only get scared!”

I point a finger and walk towards her until she’s backed against the wall. “What the hell is going on? What is Mettaton planning to do?”

“I can’t tell you; it’s against my job description!” she protests.

As much as I don’t want to, I form a sword and hold it near her neck, so sick of walking into traps and not being told a single thing. “I’m not asking _again_.”

Her lower lip wobbles and she caves, “Alright! Mettaton is not just a performer; he’s also designed to kill any human he encounters. However, since outright murder is unprofessional, he plans to slowly kill you in today’s show.”

I only feel a twinge of surprise, but my face remains blank. I drop my sword and step back, “There, was that so hard?”

She sighs and rubs her neck even though I didn’t touch her. “No, but I may get fired for warning you.”

“I doubt Mettaton will care if he kills me,” I mutter, staring out at the stage. I glance back at the lion and she still seems to be shaking off shock. “Sorry I threatened you.”

“I understand, and I’ll admit... I’m not surprised,” she says a bit cynically.

“What? That a human would try to hurt a monster?” She nods and I sigh. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’ve been in a situation like this enough times that I am _sick of being pushed around_.”

Her eyebrows scrunch, “I never thought it was possible that humans knew what it was like… to not have control. To be honest, I’ve never met one before. I thought if I was nice, you wouldn’t want to kill me. But that’s not very fair when I’m leading you to your death.”

“Isn’t death a form of not having control?” I ask her.

“True, I never thought about the details of it, like the fact that we have six SOULs. I always assumed that was just because King Asgore is so powerful.”

“We’re really not as different as the legends make it seem. I know humans won the War, but that doesn’t mean we’re nothing like monsters.”

“You’re stronger than us.”

I laugh, “Trust me, monsters can still overpower humans.”

Her eyes narrow as she looks at me, _really_ looks at me, “You’re just a kid… aren’t you?”

“You could say that,” I shrug.

Her throat bobs as she swallows, “Can I ask how old?”

“Fifteen.”

Her eyes lightly mist and she puts a hand on her heart, “I uh, I’m actually a mother of two… my oldest is thirteen. I can’t- I can’t imagine what it must be like for you here, to be alone… and here I am willingly taking you to die.”

“You’re just doing your job,” I say, immediately wincing at the concept. Wasn’t _Gaster_ just doing his job, too?

“No, this isn’t right. Besides… your magic is _purple_. All I’ve ever heard is that the final SOUL needs to be red. So… there’s no point for Mettaton to kill you.”

“I’d be happy if you could convince him,” I slightly joke.

She frowns, “I don’t know if anyone can since it’s in his programming. But… I can give you a hint that may help.” She takes off her headset and places it on the ground, peeking down the hallway to ensure no one is watching. “There’s a switch on his back. I think that’s how you can turn him off.”

I nod, “Okay, thanks for the help.”

“Hello, hello, ladies and gentlemen! We have a very special show for you today!” Mettaton announces from the stage.

My stomach tightens and sweat breaks out on my palms; I place Cody on the ground and he stares out at the stage.

“Whatever happens, please don’t die,” the lion says.

I can’t help but smirk, “I’ve survived some pretty scary stuff; I think I can do it again.”

“If I may ask, what is your name?” she says.

“What’s yours?” I reply.

“Uh, mine? Oh, it’s just Magnolia,” she says.

“Here’s a hint for life, _never_ downgrade your name. Be proud of it, Magnolia,” I say sincerely.

“And now, our prized guest for the afternoon!” Mettaton announces, throwing his arms in my direction.

I start walking towards the stage and Magnolia catches my arm, her eyes pleading me to stay. I give her a smile, “I’m Krista, and I’m going to show the Underground that this little Perseverant is a survivor.”

I pull my arm out of her grasp and walk down the hallway with Cody by my side. The lights on the stage change in a rainbow of colors with music pounding so loud I can feel it in my bones. Damn, Mettaton sure loves to create a spectacle.

I step out of the shadows of the hall, and I suddenly hear a crowd explode into applause and cheering. The noise means nothing as I have to catch my breath at the sight of New Home City sprawling out in front of me for miles. In the distance, I see the castle towering over the city, and I’m able to spot the Royal Garden near the center. The stage itself is _massive_ and three flights of long stone steps lead down to a courtyard filled with the crowd before me. There are probably about fifty monsters watching, and I spot two on opposite corners of the stage with cameras. _Oh great_.

I realize that it’s Ceiling Stars instead of lights above the stage, which is probably why Mettaton was able to get so many people here as they alone change color while the rest of the city has white and gray.

Behind me, there’s a table full of all sorts of items ranging from cooking utensils to party supplies to a chainsaw. Oh yes, he’s definitely planning to murder me in the most wondrous manner possible.

Cody presses his head into my knee as a reminder of his presence, and I realize just how carefully I’m going to have to play this if I want to get us both out of here alive.

“Thank you for joining me; how are you today?” Mettaton asks once the crowd quiets down. He holds a microphone to my face and I take a step back.

“Well, I _was_ enjoying my day until I got dragged into this,” I say, raising an eyebrow at him.

The robot laughs, and the crowd joins him, “Well let’s hope you’ll cheer up soon with today’s show!” He lowers the microphone as the crowd applauds, “I would, since this will be your last.”

He backs up so he’s directly in front of the table, “Would you care to join me?”

I notice how he always faces the front, never showing his back to the audience.

I fake a smile, “Alright.”

I walk around so I’m behind the table, keeping about a foot behind Mettaton.

“Now darling, which of these items do you think would be best utilized when surprising someone?” he asks.

That’s a dumb question considering the range of items, but I play along. “Hmm,” I say, taking a few more steps back as if I’m analyzing the entire table, but I sneak glances at his back and see the word “ _Switch_ ” written on the top with an arrow pointing to a small rectangular one. “I think…” I walk forward and grab a metallic purple party hat with my left hand while moving his switch from the left side to the right. “This will do!”

Mettaton freezes and I hope that means he’s shut down when he says, “Did you… just flip… my switch?”

“Was _that_ the biggest mistake of my life?” I ask sarcastically, glad that he’s holding the microphone far enough that it can’t pick up my voice.

He drops it and puts his hands on the top of his square body, shaking back and forth faster and faster. I back away as electronic sounds begin to chirp out of him, their pitches rising higher and higher. I’m almost near the hallway when the rainbow Ceiling Stars black out and the audience gasps.

“Oh yes!” Mettaton says calmly and two spotlights suddenly descend from the ceiling, carried by two bird monsters. They reveal an entirely different robot, one that looks more human than anything. His white metal face gleams in the light and he gives me a wicked grin that confirms I did indeed make the worst decision of my life. Black hair swoops over his right eye and he fixates his left one on me with murderous intent. Spiked black shoulder guards stretch over his thin frame, and his arms are longer with white gloves on his hands. A speaker and some sort of dial sit on his pink chest plate and a pink heart sits in a glass container below it. His long legs are clad in black leggings and pink high-heeled boots rise to just below his knees. The top portion of his body seems to barely be connected to his legs as they seemingly move as two separate units. It definitely makes him seem like he has a tiny waist.

Cody whimpers and I try to turn down the hallway when numerous rows of Mettaton’s legs block it off. I turn back to him with a glare and realize this is his wacky magic. I might have made him more powerful by flipping his switch.

“Going somewhere?” he asks.

“Not anymore,” I say, standing my ground.

“Smart answer,” he says, summoning hundreds of tiny versions of his square form. They rush towards me and blow kisses, creating little white hearts that slam into me as painfully as Muffet’s bullets did. While the back of my mind whispers the fear of revealing my magic to the Underground, my life is far more important than that.

So I form a shield around me, making the hearts bounce away with no damage and smirk as Mettaton raises a metal eyebrow in surprise.

“Well, well, well, you’re a human who knows how to use magic. The doctor didn’t prepare me for _this_ ,” he says, genuinely surprised.

“It’s always sad when a show has to end early,” I say with fake disappointment.

The robot laughs, “True, protecting yourself like that will bore my audience, but you’ll get tired eventually. Would you rather wait hours for your demise? Or will you try to escape while you have a chance?”

I drop my shield and start to inch back, “Alright, I guess we can play.”

“Wonderful! Lights! Drama! Action!” Mettaton announces as the music kicks back up, this time in a jaunty jazz tune that could make anyone’s foot tap. The lights change color faster and cannons sound somewhere, making me jump as dark pink glitter rains down on us. He gives me a wink, “I’ll give you a head-start, darling.”

I smirk and grab Cody, turning to run down the left staircase. He wiggles out of my grip before we’re even off the stage, as if telling me he can keep up. The crowd has grown since I stepped onstage, probably triple the size it once was. They roar with delight as I run, trying not to care about their watching eyes. When my feet hit the bottom of the stairs, Mettaton lands in front me, blowing a kiss and a heart comes straight for me. I bolt to the right, glad that there are rails keeping the crowd back.

I point to the right staircase as Cody runs beside me, spotting a door that leads under the stairs, away from this chaos. We’re only halfway when the ground suddenly accelerates up from underneath me, and I stumble to a stop. Once the ground stops moving, I realize I’m standing on a raised pillar hundreds of feet above the stage. My eye catches Cody’s white shape on the ground, and he takes off away from the crowd. I’d feel defensive if he was a normal dog, but somehow, I know that he’s going to help.

My eye catches another stone pillar rise across the courtyard the crowd is gathered in, and Mettaton stands on it with a sly grin.

“That was a poor head-start choice, darling,” he calls across the gap.

“That was a poor head-start time! Did you even count to one?” I call back.

He laughs, “It’s a shame I have to kill you; you would’ve made a wonderful co-star.”

“Who says I can’t still be that?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.

He merely sends out hundreds of little robots in response, and I form a sword with a pose, really feeling the music. The crowd cheers a bit louder at my pose and Mettaton picks up on it, his smile growing.

I fling my sword into the gap between us, stopping it in the middle and making it spread to engulf the robots. My magic dissipates and there isn’t a single little robot left.

“How about this, darling? Since your magic is so well-tuned, why not have a dance contest?” Mettaton asks.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I respond as if I was expecting this the whole time. In reality, the idea of dancing in front of all these people is terrifying. At least it helps that I don’t have to look at them.

A bird monster brings a disco ball and Mettaton starts, giving me a chance to figure out an escape plan. I can’t spot any more pillars on the ground, but that doesn’t mean they can’t just be pulled up with magic. Or… what if I just made my magic like a solid ground to stand on? I could sneak away and not worry about falling. In theory, if my swords are like steel, then can’t I create platforms just as sturdy?

Mettaton flips around to the music, seemingly ignoring me. I form a small platform next to my pillar and step on it, proud that it works as I’d hoped. I make a few more and work my way down when I feel a zap to my SOUL, looking up to see it came from the disco ball.

“Trying to escape? You know it’s ridiculous to cheat your way out of a dance contest!” Mettaton exclaims as robots slam into my magic, throwing me high into the air.

I scream and force myself to create a magic pathway, reminding myself that there are no blue-magic-wielding skeletons around. Where the hell is Sans anyway?

The pathway is more effective than I’d hoped, as it extends to what was once my pillar and Mettaton’s across from me. His faces lights up with delight and he takes a step onto my magic, finding it to be as trustworthy as stone. Even though I could probably make him fall to his death right now, that might be too risky with the crowd below us. So I act like this was my plan all along and extend my magic to encompass the entire space above the courtyard, definitely taking up more square footage than my house does.

“Oh, you’re definitely an interesting one, darling,” Mettaton says.

I strike a pose, lifting my chin and putting my hands on my hips. “Why thank you.”

He smirks and strikes multiple poses at once, as if he’s still more interesting. The music works its way into my blood as it goes back to that electronic beat, and I find myself moving like I haven’t in years: dancing.

I’m definitely not used to it, swaying my hips, rolling my shoulders, and bouncing on the balls of feet. It’s even more difficult with my heavy coat on, but thankfully it’s pretty chilly this high up so I don’t overheat. I try out different moves, adding in some jumps and trying to make my arms look like they’re doing something cool. Oh yeah, I’m certainly not good at this, but with the lights, the music, the cheers… maybe I’m not bad at it either.

Mettaton dances his way towards me, and I realize he’s probably going to try to catch me off guard. He kicks right towards my head and I duck, rolling to the side and tossing my hair.

“That all you got?” I ask with a wink.

He laughs, “Not even close.”

He throws more of those mini robots at me and I dodge by dancing. I try to move as gracefully as possible, but I’m no ballerina. Instead, I’m sure my moves look more like some sort of elementary hip-hop dancer. But the crowd seems to enjoy it, or maybe they just like the possibility of my death.

I only incorporate my magic a handful of times, faintly reminding myself to remember the platform we’re standing on. Mettaton throws a lot of bullets at me, yet the music does something that strengthens my magic. I move with the beat, dodging and swaying, feeling a sense of sassiness in my moves. Damn, am I even Krista Meadows anymore? Who is this bold, self-assured girl? I think… I like being her.

The intense amount of confidence I feel leads me to challenge Mettaton, pointing in his direction and waving him forward, like I remember seeing on a show once. He laughs and keeps dancing in that elegant way of his, barely even trying to kill me anymore. He’s clearly the winner in this dance fight, however, the crowd doesn’t cheer his name… they’re cheering _mine_.

I look down through the purple glow and glittering silver, spotting a message written in cyan spears, “ _Go Krista!_ ”

I almost stumble at the sight… _Undyne_ is rooting for me? I can’t see her, but her message is clear. I’m winning not by skill but by support.

Surprisingly, Mettaton doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. “I’ll give you credit darling, you’ve got one hell of a spirit,” he says, tilting his head in respect. “Maybe I’ll let you live for now.”

He points to the ceiling and more glitter explodes from the stage, shooting out over the courtyard. This time, it’s dark purple.

A bird monster gives him a microphone and the music lowers as Mettaton steps back onto his pillar. “Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for coming to today’s show! My name is Mettaton, and my lovely co-star, Krista, and I, will see you very soon!”

The lights dim and I move back, diminishing my magic as I stand on my own pillar that descends to the ground. The crowd lingers, and when I’m back on solid ground, they flock to the railings.

“Krista!”

“Krista, over here!”

“Can I get your autograph?”

“How did you do that?”

“Can I steal some of your moves?”

My eyes widen at the sheer number of monsters now packed into the courtyard. How many had come within the time we were up there? It _must_ be at least half the city. In spite of so much noise, I’m able to pick up Cody’s bark to my right and I turn to see him, Undyne, Papyrus, and Sans standing by the staircase. I run over to them, disappointing quite a few spectators.

“Oh my gosh, that was crazy!” I say, stopping in front of them.

“I’ll say! You’re popular now!” Papyrus says, and I pick up on the slightest hint of disappointment that it’s not his name being cheered.

“Well, do you want to meet the people?” I ask him.

“No, no, I will achieve greatness at my own time; right now, it is yours,” he says, his disappointment disappearing. I feel a tug of relief at his sincerity, glad that what just happened for me only encourages him to achieve his dream.

My eyes dart to Sans, still holding the box of spider donuts and jug of cider, “Where were you?” I ask, only slightly annoyed by his disappearance.

“Trying to fend off Mettaton from using the elevator, which worked, but then I couldn’t use it because it got stuck wherever you went. Speaking of which, where did _you_ go?”

“Some hidden hallway that led to steps that took forever to climb. Then I ended up in some dressing rooms before I found the stage.”

“Well I was wondering what all the noise was; Mettaton has never made a show _that_ insane,” Undyne pipes up.

“Yeah, we were near the Royal Garden when we saw the lights. You were protecting yourself from those little robots when we got here,” Papyrus says.

Undyne laughs, “Which reminds me, I _really_ want to spar with you now. That magic platform you made lasted for such a long time, I was almost worried you’d forget about it.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” I say with a laugh, suddenly realizing how exhausted I am. I don’t think I’ve ever used magic for as long as I did today. “But thanks for the encouragement; I never thought you’d root for a human.”

She smirks, “Eh, Papyrus kinda convinced me, but I’ll admit, you’ve got some moves.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d see a message in bone bullets with all the light, but I was cheering for you the whole time!” Papyrus says.

“Same here,” Sans winks.

“I don’t know about you guys, but after watching all that, I am _hungry_. Let’s go find a place to eat!” Undyne says, expertly maneuvering around the crowd.

I pick Cody up and give him a little hug, “Did you find them, puppy?”

He barks and Sans says, “Yep, brought me straight to the others.”

“How did you get here if the elevator was broken?”

“I shortcutted to the elevator we had used with Asgore to get to the city. The lights and the music were a giveaway as to where you were, but Cody caught me up with them,” he nods to our boss and our brother.

“And you didn’t crush a single donut,” I say, lifting the lid on the mauve-colored box. At this point, my stomach’s growling so loud, I’m scared they’ll hear me over the crowd. Magic use certainly takes a lot of energy out of a human.

Three donuts are missing and I pretend to be offended, “You ate them without me?”

“Hey, those things are prime pastries!” Undyne calls back. “Sans told me you only paid 1000G for them! Seriously! I’m the _Captain_ , and I can only get the price knocked down to 3000! I would like to have whatever five-leaf clover you’re carrying around today.”

I laugh and grab a donut, “Sorry, I don’t know where it is.”

I try my best to ignore the fact that _spiders_ made the donut and bite into it, immediately tasting apple, cinnamon, lemon, and blueberry. “Whoa, that really is an amazing pastry,” I admit. “Although the discount still isn’t low enough with what we had to deal with,” I mutter to Sans.

His only response is a smirk as we reach the outward loop of the City Market, on the opposite side of the city from where we went a couple months ago.

“Just past here are all the restaurants!” Papyrus tells us as something shiny catches my eye and I stop, turning to face the source. A jewelry shop with a wide glass window practically sparkles against the drab, gray cobblestone street. Little lights built into the floor shine up to make the jewelry glimmer. All sorts of diamonds and gems create rainbows from the light, manufactured into rings, necklaces, earrings, and bracelets. While I admire all of them, the only one that truly holds my interest is a bracelet composed of tiny peridot gemstones shaped like pears.

My interest in such a pretty thing reminds me of two facts: I’ve always admired wealth because it’s something I’ve never had, and deep down, I am _really_ girly. Thanks Mom.

“Something catch your eye?” Sans asks.

“Oh, sorry, yeah. I’ll catch up,” I say, distracted.

“Come on, what is it?” he asks. “Is it that one?” he points to a necklace composed of a rainbow of hearts.

I smirk, “Try again.” He points to a ring with a gigantic lavender gemstone in it. “Do you think I’m _that_ classy?”

“What’s the hold-up?” Undyne asks.

“Krista’s getting distracted by pretty gems,” Sans says, smirking.

Undyne rolls her eye, “God that is _such_ a girly thing to do.” But then she smiles, “Alright, which one is it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“You know guys, it doesn’t matter,” I say, trying to play down my interest.

“Nope, you’re a girly-girl, which means we must find what will make you happy,” Undyne says, scanning the display.

“Trust me, I have more than enough to make me happy,” I say genuinely.

“But there are always those extra things that help!” Papyrus says, now scanning, too.

I roll my eyes and Sans slams his finger against the glass, pointing, “ _That one_.”

Among all the items, he points directly at the pear bracelet. I sigh, “Yes, that’s it.”

He smiles, “Do I know my sister or do I know my sister?”

“It took you a little while,” I shoot back.

“Wow it’s so… _simple_. Maybe you’re not as girly as I’d thought,” Undyne says.

“Do you see what I’m wearing? Miss Muffet said my clothes ‘lack taste and refinement.’”

Undyne gives me a quick once-over and smirks, “All I see is a bucket of glitter.”

I look down and notice just how much glitter is sticking to my clothes. I start to brush it off when Undyne flips my hood on, showering even more all over me. I gasp and smack her arm, sticking purple glitter onto her blue scales.

She laughs, “Ah, I guess I deserved that. Go buy your pretty bracelet while I make reservations at City Cuisine; Papyrus knows where it is.”

Sans tries to hold back a laugh while Papyrus brushes glitter out of my hair, fussing. “Honestly, it’s more of a nuisance than a cool celebration gimmick. It’s like when he used confetti on his talent show.”

I take my coat off and shake it out, making Cody jump back and shake four times until he’s content that his fur is clean.

“Aww, puppy can’t sparkle?” I ask with a laugh before realizing we’ve made a purple-brick-road in front of the jewelry store. “Do you think they’ll get mad?”

“Nah, if anything, it’ll attract more customers,” Sans says.

“Alright,” Papyrus says when we’ve gotten as much glitter off as we can. “Are you going to buy that bracelet?”

I glance at it one last time and immediately shake my head.

“Krista,” Sans says, disappointed. “If you’re gonna go on about money-”

“No, it really doesn’t matter. Just think of it like I’m a kid in a candy store: I’ll want it, but I don’t _need_ it, okay? Now where’s the restaurant, Papyrus?”

My brothers exchange a look that I still haven’t deciphered the meaning of, and Papyrus leads the way. I make sure that Sans stays beside me, _certain_ he’ll try to go back if I don’t watch him.

“It’s no different from the clothes,” he mutters to me.

“Be that as it may… I don’t need it,” I respond, but his eyes tell me he’s not convinced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the title doesn't exactly work, but I came up with it about eight months ago and I'm too proud of it to change it.
> 
> Who would've thought a human could humble the great Mettaton? Enough that he's actually delighted to have a co-star?
> 
> You guys can imagine any music you want for that dance scene (I think it's kinda obvious Death By Glamour was in there for a little bit), but in case you were wondering (probably not) what music I had in my head/ listened to while writing, it was K/DA's Pop/Stars. For one, it's because I think the song defines the kind of upbeat confidence both Krista and Mettaton had. And two, I just like the song, lol.


	26. Better... But Never Healed

Undyne is generous enough to give me a week and a half before kicking open our door and declaring today’s the day we’ll spar. It took some work talking her out of it when we had lunch together last Sunday, but she eventually agreed after seeing how tired I was. Once we made it home, I washed all the glitter off and collapsed on the couch, not caring that it was only four in the afternoon. I got a good fourteen hours of sleep, and it was still difficult to get going for the day. I had completely forgotten about Flowey’s threat and felt a twinge of pride that he let time move forward. Honestly, I would have thanked him considering what a long day Sunday had been.

It’s strange now, how much friendlier the monsters seem. The entire show with Mettaton was televised, of course, and Merrick and Lily are beyond proud to say they “knew me before I was famous.” I don’t have a ridiculous amount of popularity, Mettaton’s new look has certainly boosted his number of views, and only a handful of people call in to his shows to ask when I’ll be back for another performance. However, there seems to be less… hesitance when the monsters talk to me. The Royal Guards, the monsters in town… it’s as if I’ve truly gained their trust. I don’t know if that’s because of the glamour of television or just that I showed them I’m a survivor. I hope it’s the latter.

When they played a rerun of the show, I cringed at seeing myself, confirming that I am certainly not a good dancer. But I don’t think that matters to anyone, it was the fact that I was enjoying myself. My actions showed my perseverance, and even though Mettaton was being a psychopath at first, I was still able to have fun. It helped that the show went from “Kill the Human” to “Dance Contest.”

I’m always searching for any ounce of bitterness or jealousy from Papyrus, hoping and praying he knows I didn’t do it because I think I should outshine him. But he constantly tells me that he’s happy for me, and that he’ll find fame soon in his own way. I especially felt better when he said he would do it in a much grander method than me. I truly hope he does.

Watching myself gave me a strange sense of realization, and it took me a while to understand what it was. But then it hit me: it’s that I am a completely different girl from just three months ago. I never would have dreamed that I’d be dancing in front of thousands of people like some sort of popstar. I never imagined that I’d now have so many reasons to laugh and smile. I never thought that I could find happiness without my sister by my side. It’s been an immense struggle, but I think I’ve finally been able to pull myself out of the darkness my father created and shove back the fear that thrived in a hidden lab. And no matter what Flowey might try, or whatever Chara’s planning, I know I can face it with confidence and _survive_. Because I now truly know the happiness I’ve been working towards, and it’s worth fighting for.

***

“Alright, show me what you got!” Undyne says, already holding a spear.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, regretting that I didn’t make a wiser outfit choice this morning. I had only gotten my jeans on when I heard her kick open the door downstairs and demand I go to her house to spar. It was amazing enough that I got my shoes on before she dragged me out of the building. So here I am, completely unprepared in jeans and a black sweatshirt while she stands across from me in a black tank top, blue leggings and red boots. I’ve noticed that it’s her favorite outfit when she’s not in her armor.

“What’s your bullet pattern? Or wait, humans don’t have set patterns, which means you can do whatever you want. So… do you have preferred bullets?” Undyne asks. I form spikes in response and she smirks, “Not very creative, are you?”

“They get the job done,” I shrug.

“Then try to hit me!” she roars with a confident flip of her spear.

I send my spikes toward her at a speed faster than I can sprint, just as curious about her skills as she is of mine. I’m certain she’s better, but can I give her a challenge?

She dodges and blocks them with skilled grace, working her way towards me as she moves. I can tell she’s coming in to attack, and I take cautious steps back while moving to the right, keeping my distance.

“You’re not _trying_ ,” she insists, slashing away my spikes with a giant spear and knocking me to the ground when one of her yellow spears slams into my back. “I’m guessing you’re better at defense.”

I stand up and lightly rub my back, trying to hide my wince since she hit me on my weakest spot, along my right shoulder blade. “Yeah, I am.”

Undyne smiles, “Then allow me to help you!”

She creates hundreds of cyan and yellow spears, sending them all towards me at once. I gasp and create a shield right before they reach me. Her spears diminish as they hit my shield, their power useless as I don’t feel any pain.

“Huh, that’s pretty cool, but shields like that are gonna take a lot of strength out of you after a long period of time. I’ll send fewer spears at you, but I want you moving around!” Undyne roars, this time only creating a handful of spears.

I find myself falling back into those movements that I used when dodging Asgore’s attacks. Jumps to the sides, tiny shields to block those that get too close, subtle twists, and occasional somersaults if I want to get some distance.

Undyne laughs, “Yeah, that’s what I want! Now send attacks at me while you dodge!”

I follow her orders, searching for openings that could throw her off guard, but she keeps up better than I can. After maybe ten minutes, I’m gasping for breath and Undyne backs off. “Okay, that was great! You’re definitely a good defender, which is something I’d expect from my sentries.”

I wave a hand in acknowledgement and shake my shirt a few times to cool off. She laughs, “You’re gonna die of heat exhaustion wearing that. I can tell you’re wearing a cami, don’t be so modest, and put your hair up, too.” I raise an eyebrow, knowing what she’ll find out if I listen. “Come on! You’ll last longer if you do.”

I sigh and throw my sweatshirt off, feeling Waterfall’s cool air caress my shoulders. Undyne tosses me a hair tie from her wrist, and I pull my hair into a high ponytail, although I can’t get it as high as hers.

“Now, let’s do some close-range offense. I saw you made a sword with Mettaton, so I’m guessing that’s your close-range bullet. Let’s see if you can hit me now,” she raises an eyebrow, her eye sparkling at the challenge.

I form a sword, realizing I’m smirking with her. Oh yes, this will be fun… and I am definitely going to lose.

She lunges forward and her spear clashes with my sword, their combined glows blinding me for a split second. It gives her the opportunity to sweep my legs out from under me and I hit the ground, the impact making sparks burst in my spotty vision. Undyne doesn’t seem to care as she forms a spear and drops it towards my chest. My instincts take over and I fling my hand up, feeling a rush of magic so powerful that it clashes against the spear and destroys it.

Undyne leaps back in surprise, but recovers and forms two spears as I sit up and block them with a sword.

“You’ve got some good survival instincts; where did they come from?” she lifts an eyebrow pushing her magic against mine. Damn, she is _strong_ . “I think Asgore went easy on you, but _I_ won’t.”

She surges towards me and her spear grazes my collarbone as I roll forward, shoving her behind me. In the second that it takes Undyne to compose herself, I flip back and leap at her with my sword. Undyne catches me with two of her spears, but I smile as I realize _I’m_ on the offense now. She flinches as red droplets hit the left side of her face, but I ignore them as I press against her magic, digging my feet into the ground for extra strength.

She smirks and I sense one of her yellow spears bouncing off the wall behind me. Without moving, I make a shield that covers my back and keep pushing against her spears. We’re locked into this position until I realize she’s starting to win, pressing her feet into the ground to stand up. It doesn’t help that she’s taller than me as she finally gets to her full height and shoves me back. I trip and roll onto my stomach, my muscles trembling as I try to push myself back to my feet, expecting a blow.

Instead, I hear a gasp, and I look up to see Undyne staring wide-eyed at me. “I yield,” I try to joke, lifting a shaky hand in defeat. She crouches next to me as I push myself to my knees, feeling a sting on my right collarbone. I put a hand on it and find blood pouring down my chest, soaking my cami. “Good thing I’m wearing black, right?” I say with a smirk, trying to calm my shaking. From what I feel, it a fairly short cut, but it’s deep enough that it’ll probably scar.

Her mouth twists to the side, “Sorry.”

“No problem. At least I can _almost_ hold my own against the Captain of the Royal Guard,” I joke, wincing when I realize my blood is splattered on her face. “Sorry about that,” I gesture to her face.

She scratches some of it off and waves a hand, “Oh, that’s nothing; I don’t care.”

But the hollow look in her eye tells me something’s bothering her. “Do you have paper towels or something that I can clean this up with?” I ask.

“Huh? Oh, yes!” Undyne jumps to her feet and offers me her hand. I take it and she leads me into her house, gesturing to the bench under the table on the right. She scrambles for a roll of paper towels on the counter against the wall and fills a bowl of water, slamming them on the table in front of me.

I put my hands up in surprise, “Calm down. I’m not gonna bleed to death from this.”

“Right,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck as I dunk a paper towel in the water, and a chill makes my shoulders shake as my sweat cools.

“I should get my sweatshirt,” I say, rising when she leaps for the door.

“I’ll get it!”

I raise an eyebrow, why is she so jumpy? I’ve never seen Undyne like this; she’s usually calm and confident. Did I do something wrong? Maybe she can’t stand the sight of blood. As Muffet said, it’s _filth_.  

I’ve just barely touched my wound when Undyne’s back in the house, dropping my shirt next to me on the bench.

“Thanks,” I say, immediately going back to cleaning off the blood. I don’t even realize she’s still standing behind me until I’m as clean as I can get and press a fresh towel onto my collarbone. “Are you okay?” I ask her, looking back to see her pupil is so small that it’s merely a speck in her yellow eye.

“How… Sorry, _where_ -” she heaves a breath and rubs her forehead. “Never mind, you’d hate me if I asked, and I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Is it how I can stand to be composed of something so filthy?” I ask, lifting my blood-soaked towel.

Her eyebrows furrow, “No, not at all, what made you think that?”

“I’ve had a couple monsters tell me their very low opinions on human blood.”

“No… it’s not that.”

“Is it how I’m so bad at sparring?” I try to joke, not liking that hollowness in her eye.

“No, you’re actually pretty good.”

“Okay, I give up. What is it?” I ask, pulling my hair out of its ponytail.

“Your scars,” she whispers in the softest voice I’ve ever heard her use.

Oh... _oh_. I had only thought about them when I first took my sweatshirt off, but after the rush of sparring… I thought she had only gasped from seeing the blood. I would think Undyne’s seen some pretty nasty scars in her time, so why would mine bother her?

“What do you want to ask?” I say casually, fluffing my hair and pulling my sweatshirt on.

“What _happened_?”

My mouth twists to the side and I shrug, “At the time, it was a reasonable punishment.”

She backs up a step, her blue skin paling. “A punishment as brutal as that is _never_ reasonable.”

I sigh, knowing my brothers would say the same thing. “Can’t be fixed now, and besides, it was a long time ago.”

“How many years?”

I bite my lip, knowing my number will be laughable considering she’s probably been around for a few centuries. “Almost five.”

She stiffens, “Who did it?”

I sigh, “Undyne-”

“ _Who did it_?”

“My father,” I say, my voice no more than a whisper.

A spear flashes into her hands and she grips it so tightly that all the muscles in her arms stand at attention. “Is he the reason you entered the Underground?”

I shrug, “More or less.”

She takes a deep breath, slowly loosening her grip before her spear disintegrates, as if she needed to hold it to keep her magic controlled. “I guess you really do know how much blood loss you can tolerate?” she says lightly.

Instinctually, my back tenses when I think about that night, that fear of even shifting a muscle because it would reopen a wound and add another thick coat of frozen blood.

“I uh, well… I’ve got a sensitive spot for injuries like that,” Undyne says, walking around the table to take a seat across from me. She sighs and stares at a spot on the wall to her right, “God… I’ve never told anyone this.”

“You don’t have to,” I say gently.

“No!” she slams a fist onto the table, making me jump. “Sorry… but no… I need to say it.”

I sit up a bit straighter, giving her my full attention and respect. She smirks, “You’d definitely make a good Royal Guard.”

The house is silent for a moment before she speaks. “My dad fought in the War between humans and monsters... all those centuries ago. He was young and inexperienced and… he was captured just a few months before it ended. A sadistic group of humans thought it’d be funny to torture a monster. Dad told me they loved to say, ‘If you can’t bleed, then what’s the fun in cutting you open?’ Ironically, they did just that for _months_ . Cutting off his fins and scales… shredding him apart with whips and knives... all because they _could_. Unfortunately for Dad, he had excellent healing magic, so his body could stitch itself back together within a few hours to endure the pain all over again.”

Undyne rubs her eye and I look away, feeling more like an eavesdropper than someone who deserves to know this story. She takes a deep breath and continues, “When the wizards were about to banish monsters underground, the sadists figured they were done with ‘their pet,’ reasoning it’d be a blessing if he got to stay on the Surface with them. So he was sent down here, and that was honestly a better fate… but every now and then he’d tell me he sometimes dreamed of those days, only because he was able to feel the sun on his scales and the rain cooling his back.”

Undyne glances up at the ceiling as if she can imagine what it feels like. “Dad served the king for centuries after that, never revealing to anyone what had happened to him, until he met my mom. He said there is a soulmate for everyone in this world, but only a few of us are actually lucky enough to meet them. My mom was that person… and look what that love created.”

Undyne waves her fingers in tiny celebration as a tear rolls down her cheek. “He never told me his story until I was eighteen, the morning before I was sworn into the Royal Guard. And… I had always seen the scars on his arms, but never the ones on his _back_ . His magic was good, but it wasn’t perfect, and _every single lash_ was visible. There were layers of them… and I felt so _stupid_ for never noticing. But I guess they’re the types that anyone would try to hide… and you hide them _very_ well.”

Her eye lifts to mine and I feel a wave of cold crawl over me as the question comes to mind. “Is he… still around?”

She shakes her head, “He dusted 112 years ago, but hey, I got more years with him than most monsters do with their parents. Mom followed just a few months after, which wasn’t surprising, but it didn’t hurt any less.”

“Undyne-”

She cuts me off, “Don’t say you’re sorry, because his best years were once he put it all behind him. And _my_ life has been pretty freaking awesome aside from three or four things. So there’s nothing to be sorry about. I just wanted to tell you because… you’re the only person who could understand. And not just because of your scars, but because… you have that understanding. I know we don’t know each other too well, but Papyrus talks about you a lot. And… he did tell about a time you yelled at them… and you said you were a murderer.”

My blood freezes and I start to move back when she puts her hands up in defense, “I’m not judging you at all! And please don’t get mad at him for telling me. You know how he is.”

I smirk, “No, I’m not mad at him… but I think you should get more context if he left it like that.”

Her eyebrows furrow and she braces her arms on the table, ready to listen.

“Well… I often tear myself down whenever I screw up. And on that day, I had hurt Asgore while we were sparring. I knew he was distracted by other things, and I let myself get caught up in it anyway. After he left… I got cornered by the boys and completely lost it, telling them every horrible thing I hated and believed about myself. The murder part… is true. I murdered my father… who murdered my sister.”

Undyne leans back, a fierce anger shining in her eye, “That’s not something you should beat yourself up over. Hell, that’s even _good_ . Good that you sent the _son of a bitch_ to hell.”

I wrap my arms around myself, not seeing it that way at all. Maybe there was something I could have done to prevent it from coming to that.

“Krista,” Undyne says, snapping my attention back to her, “what was the reason?”

Without thinking, I trace some of the scars on the back of my neck, remembering every lash. “My sister humiliated him in front of a whole store of people when she got caught stealing fruit. He hadn’t had a drink in two days, which set his temper on the thinnest ice imaginable. He came home later that day with a whip… and there was no way in hell my six-year-old sister was going to take _that_.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

Undyne takes a sharp breath, “And you didn’t think about the possibility of dying?”

“No, I did. In fact,” I can’t help but chuckle at the sheer perfection of that night, as if he had planned for Mable to steal the fruit the whole time. “It snowed… and he left me to die.”

Undyne stares at me as if _I’m_ the centuries-old adult, not her. “All that and probably countless other horrible experiences… and you still smile.”

“That’s what your dad did,” I reason.

“Yeah, but he found his soulmate and had a daughter. You… I mean, you’ve got your brothers, but they haven’t been in your life for long. Just a week and a half ago Mettaton was trying to _kill_ you, and a few minutes later you were just having fun.”

“Well,” I say, sending up a small burst of magic that showers over the table like glitter. “I guess I just… _persevere_ ,” I smirk, knowing Sans would think it’s a good pun.

Undyne rolls her eye and she grabs the paper towels and the bowl of water, depositing them on the counter before opening a drawer and tossing a roll of gauze at me.

“Keep that collarbone clean, you’ll need it the next time we spar,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow, “Next time?”

“Afraid?” she challenges.

I smirk, “Absolutely not.”

***

In practically the blink of an eye, two months pass as I fall into a comfortable, normal routine, another thing I never thought was possible. The average schedule is some sparring with Undyne two days a week, working at my sentry station, and spending time with my brothers and Cody whenever I can. We try all sorts of different things to spice up our time off work, such as visiting a restaurant at MTT Resort where you have to reserve _everything_ , including your chair and silverware. Mettaton was thrilled to see me there, and I learned that Alphys had changed his programming from wanting to kill _all_ humans to just Determinations. I’ll have to thank her at some point, even though the fact that he’s still got some human-killing desires unnerves me. I was able to convince him to do a cooking show with Papyrus, and it’s scheduled a few days before Gyftmas. Papyrus didn’t stop telling me I was the best sister ever for the rest of the day.

I gain the bravery to visit Grillby’s again, laughing off the fish and bird’s harassment with a few jokes that seem to subdue them. It’s enough that they don’t even bat an eye when I order a glass of chocolate milk. I guess it also helps that they think I’m a “starlet” as they love to say every time they see me now. While it’s annoying, it’s better than being called “girl that freaks out at the scent of lava juice.”

We got a chance to visit Asgore in mid-September, and he couldn’t stop saying how proud he was of us for how much we’d grown in just a few months. The visit was too short for my liking, especially since none of us got to talk to him one-on-one when Undyne busted in and declared she was making dinner in celebration. Although he did tell me that I surprised him when he’d heard about my performance with Mettaton and even more when he watched it later.

“All I can say is that letting you live on your own was the best decision for the three of you. I’m glad that the freedom has allowed you to thrive,” he said to me before we left.

I gave him a hug, glad that he recognized the truth and even happier that our absence hasn’t brought him down. Or at least I really want to hope it hasn’t.

Around that same time, we finally cleaned out the storage closet, throwing away almost everything aside from a few books, shelves, puzzles, and minimal supplies. Sans offered the room to me, but I told him he could have it. I’ve found that I like the couch too much; the lighting from outside is so calming that I’ve realized it’s my own personal nightlight. Which of course, cements the fact that I can’t sleep in the dark anymore.

It was definitely an adjustment for the boys to sleep separately, and I caught them sneaking into each other’s rooms within the first two weeks. I don’t blame them; I woke up several times searching for Mable’s warmth those first weeks in the lab. But the independence has allowed them to find new ways to express themselves, as Papyrus has built a fiery red race car frame around his bed, dreaming of the idea of learning to drive “once we get to the Surface.” He’s also taken a liking to action figures, an outlet I’ve noticed that lets him dream of being a hero.

Sans on the other hand has painted his room to look like a galaxy of stars with a little help from Papyrus and me. None of us are artists in terms of shapes, but Sans is certainly an artist with colors. The blues, purples, greens, oranges, and yellows all blend together with such beauty that it really does make me feel like I’m in outer space when standing in that tiny room. The dots of white and dashes of black bring it all together as a masterful work of art, giving us the impression of walking among the stars. Sans left the constellation posters on the ceiling, saying they’re the one thing of Gaster’s he doesn’t mind keeping. Even though they’re just posters, I’m still surprised he liked them enough to brush aside the fact that _Gaster_ had arranged them.

With every passing day, a whisper of fear still echoes in my mind, wondering if I’ll wake up tomorrow back in a dark lab or wherever a Reset would send me. But nothing happens, not a rustle of snow or a mischievous snicker ever sounds while I’m working or at any other time. However, I can still hear Flowey’s threat, and I wonder what circumstances will finally tip the scale from mildly interesting to boring for him.

Chara isn’t even a thought as I’ve long forgotten Gaster’s hidden lab and that creature’s vague implications. If anything, I think she’s the last thing I need to worry about. If I don’t go looking for her, then she’ll never affect me. At least that’s the reasoning Sans has convinced me into thinking.

I was able to keep my injury from sparring with Undyne a secret. The main reasons were that she never brought it up again, and all my shirts have high enough collars that the boys never saw the bandage. They still don’t know about blood yet, and I’m afraid that they’d get a little overprotective if they knew about that fragility. It’s like how magic is for them, blood is a life source for me. That’ll be my explanation if they ever find out about it. As much as Muffet talked about blood, Sans never questioned it; I think that in the rush of surviving, it was a detail he simply ignored.

Now, the wound has healed to a light pink, crescent-shaped scar. In a couple more months it’ll fade to white, another one to add to the collection, but at least it’s connected to a good memory, for once.

I mark today’s date off the calendar, _October 20th_. Time really flies when you’re having fun, even if most of the day is composed of sitting in a quiet forest. The difference on this lovely Friday, however, is that Sans is finally cashing in his offer to spar.

I’m nervous, to say the least, but Undyne has helped me a lot when it comes to compartmentalizing my magic. The greatest advantage is that I’m less inclined to get caught up in the power so it doesn’t take over. She says having magic instincts is beneficial for defense mechanisms, but anything offensive should be on a short leash. So I play around with defense magic as often as possible, and only use offense when we’re sparring. She’s also pushed me to be more creative with the bullets I make, saying a variety could possibly trick up an opponent. Now, when I’m working, I find myself making different shapes even without thinking. I certainly did surprise the captain when I sent a swarm of purple butterflies in her face. The downside of tricking her up was that she chased me with spears for a good fifteen minutes afterwards.

I give Cody a kiss on the head and leave him at his spot on the couch where he’ll most likely snooze until lunchtime. Most days he’s with me, but I don’t want him around when we spar, just as a precaution.

Outside, Papyrus is scolding Sans about being as safe as possible today.

“I know my limits; we’ll be fine,” Sans says with a wave of his hand.

Papyrus frowns, “Alright, so you’ll stop the _second_ you know you’re getting tired?”

“Yes, trust me, nothing bad will happen.”

Papyrus isn’t convinced in the slightest and he gives me a stern look, “ _Awareness_ , okay? Defense only.” 

“I know, I know,” I say, putting my hands up.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I’m off for Hotland… and you’re _sure_ I don’t need to stay just in case anything happens?”

“I’ll spar with you right now if it means you’ll stop worrying,” Sans says, creating a single bone bullet and chucking it at our brother. The bone phases right through him, completely harmless.

Papyrus gives him a “ _Are you serious?_ ” expression before turning and walking into the blizzard. Sans lifts his head with pride, “Ha, that showed him.”

“Truly inspirational. Now where’s the spot that you’ve been practicing at?” I ask.

He leads me a few steps forward before shortcutting into the middle of the woods. “I wanted a place as far from town as possible, so naturally, it’s out here by the Ruins door.”

We walk only a few hundred yards before reaching a circular, open clearing. Its circumference probably takes up a little more room than our house, leaving a decent amount of distance between opponents. It’s the perfect sparring ring in terms of size. There are no traces of tree stumps, but I’m betting he took down quite a few trees. He sure brought home about that much in firewood a month ago. I should have kept my mouth shut when I told them about how great a fire is.

“So this is where you go when you can’t sleep at night?” I ask, my tone light enough that he knows I don’t judge.

“Sometimes, but yes, it’s where I got all that firewood cuz I know you’re gonna ask. You gotta admit, it was worth it since that magic crap is pretty lukewarm, and it’s _silent_ which isn’t comforting at all.”

“Yes, I’m very grateful,” I say, because _seriously_ , Blizzard Hype’s packets of second-rate fire magic really are just false advertising of the real thing. Apparently there are some regulations that discourage monsters from burning since smoke will always stay in the air to some degree. But as far as we know, there are only two other monsters in Snowdin that still do wood fires. After talking to a lot of the locals, they don’t seem to care, but I’m going to make sure to keep the fires to a minimum.

“Alright, you ready?” Sans asks, standing on one side of the circle.

“Just remember that this was _your_ idea,” I say, moving to the side opposite of him.

“Afraid you’re gonna lose?” he asks, raising an eye socket with a smirk.

“No, but I’m reminding you that I’m not at fault for any pride injuries you may sustain,” I say, smirking back and forming a shield.

“Getting smug are we? I like it,” he says, creating numerous bone bullets behind him and throwing them at me all at once.

I defend by crouching behind a small shield, remembering Undyne’s advice about conserving magic use in fights. _Every little bit you save will help you last longer_.

I look up and Sans sends a line of blue bone bullets, making me freeze in surprise. Amazingly enough, they don’t hurt as they pass by.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d remember,” he says.

“I didn’t,” I say, standing up.

“Well, it’s blue magic, and blue magic can freeze you in a spot. So just don’t move and the blue ones won’t hurt you,” he says, winking as he creates a staggered pattern of white and blue bones.

“Oh, you sneaky…” I mutter as he sends them forward. I’m able to completely dodge the first two, but then he turns the rest around so they practically track me. A white bone hits me in the shoulder and dissipates into magenta smoke, just barely warming my jacket. I freeze in time for a blue one to pass and duck under the next white one, rolling straight through a blue one that dissipates too.

“If my calculations are correct, you just got hit twice, which means I win, right?” Sans asks with a smirk.

“If you had typical magic, I’d say yes because I’d have bones stuck in my arm and shoulder. But since you don’t,” I stand up straight and toss my hair, “you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

His only reply is a smile as he creates hundreds of bullets, all poised for attack. If I didn’t know they can’t hurt me, I would be afraid for my life.

I leap, dodge, and defend in any way I can, not even knowing whether I get hit or not. He starts changing things up again by throwing bones along the ground, forcing me to stand on platforms of my own magic to avoid them. Along with that, he throws bullets from every direction: above, behind, below, to the sides, everywhere I look I expect to see a bullet. Then they start changing sizes, from short thin bones that he purposely tosses aside as a joke, to ones as thick as the trees.

I’ll give him every ounce of credit in the sense that he’s pretty creative with his limited magic. And after about ten minutes, it seems like he’s just having fun showing off while I try to take it seriously. By the time Sans actually stops, I’m nearly sweating, but I’m unsure if it’s from the warmth of getting hit so many times or that I moved around so much.

Then my eyebrows rise when I see that _he’s_ sweating.

“I gotta admit: you are _really_ agile,” he says, panting. “I honestly think I only hit you about fifty times out of about a thousand bullets.”

“You okay?” I ask as he wipes off the sweat with a gloved hand. I’m not gonna question the “logic” of a skeleton sweating; magic is just always going to keep surprising me.

“Yep. In fact, I think you’re ready to see my final trick,” he says.

I shake some snow off my jacket, too preoccupied to look at him. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?” I ask, slipping my coat back on.

I hear a sound that suddenly freezes me in place, a sound like the charging up of raw power. I slowly look up to see a dragon-like skull with curved horns, its mouth partially open as white energy brightens inside its mouth. The forest disappears and teal walls surround me as the head grows larger, oozing tendrils of darkness. It grows razor teeth as that ball of white expands and I force myself to move, but I don’t get far.

Panic mode sets in as I stumble back, tripping over my feet and falling to smack my head against a frozen ground. I still hear that charge and I push myself up, scurrying back until I hit a wall. The creature nears, still charging and charging. My left hand clamps down on my right arm, and the creature eyes it, _delighting_ in my helplessness. I look away and tuck my arm against me, refusing history to repeat itself.  
“You’re not taking it again!” I scream, curling into myself, knowing there is no escape from this hell.

Dry, bony hands cup either side of my face, forcing me to look forward. I try to get away, knowing it’s a trick, another false sense of security before my flesh is burned. But then I hear a voice.

“Krista! Look at me! Please!”

My eyes snap forward as my vision comes back into focus, the teal melting into white, the charging of the creature fading into the silence of a snow-covered world, and the skull of a dragon sharpening into my brother’s face. His left eye glows a fierce light blue while the other is black, and an expression of fear contorts his features.

“Sans?” I ask like an idiot, but he just pulls me into a crushing hug in response.

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’re safe,” he says, his voice trembling.

I hold onto him and realize just how much I’m shaking as I fixate my eyes on the scenery before me, reminding myself of my earned freedom.

“You don’t remember the creature in the lab, do you?” I whisper.

“Can’t say that I do… when was that?” he says, his voice calmer.

I pull back and take a deep breath, realizing that I’m sitting against a tree; I guess that was the “wall” I felt. “It was only a couple weeks before we left; that was the first time I saw Papyrus, actually. Gaster was trying to tap into some ‘alternate dimension’ or whatever, and it summoned a creature that looked a lot like that dragon head of yours. It sounded the same, too. She later told me she liked that form so much because of how intimidating it was.”

“‘She’?”

I get a chill, “Remember what I said about what Chara did to my arm?” He nods, “Well, she did it in that form.” I explain the creature’s appearance as best as I can.

“Why don’t I remember that?” Sans asks, his eyes finally returning to normal.

“Maybe because Gaster defended us?” I say.

His eye sockets narrow, “He _wouldn’t_.”

“And that denial is probably why you don’t remember,” I say, forcing myself to stand up, trying to control the remaining tremors in my muscles.

Sans follows suit, seeming like he wants to say more. “Do you think… it might help if you could interact with the blaster?”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” I ask.

He shrugs, “I think it’s an accurate title.”

I take a deep breath, “Okay.”

He takes a few steps back and the dragon head pops up beside him, its mouth closed and ready for orders. On instinct, I flinch back but then remind myself who has it under control.

“See? It’s just like a bone bullet, only a little more complex,” Sans says, petting the dragon skull. Its expression doesn’t change as it stares forward, its mouth structured in a permanent smile; a weapon ready to be used. I step to its side and analyze its structure; Sans is right, it is just another form of a magic bullet.

“You know Gaster had one like this?” I ask.

Sans shrugs, “I’m not surprised; I can’t deny there were some traits I inherited.”

“Has Papyrus ever mentioned having a blaster?”

“He has, what’s funny is that he can actually make his dragon change expressions. But he considers using it to be such a special attack that I know he hasn’t even tried it with Undyne.”

“So… it’s just the one head you can create?” I ask, remembering the numerous ones Chara controlled.

Sans twists his mouth to the side, “See that’s the thing…”

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye to see another blaster pop up, and another and another, so many I can’t even count them. Their sizes range from Cody’s little body to Muffet’s gigantic pet.

“I think I’m more dangerous than he intended,” Sans says, smirking.

My eyes scan the identical faces of the numerous blasters, “Do you think these can hurt anybody, unlike your bones?”

“I haven’t tested it out yet, and we’re certainly not going to try it out on you,” he says, eliminating the skulls in the blink of an eye.

“Not even just a little baby one?” I ask, honestly curious.

He raises an eye socket, “You sure?”

“You’ve got healing magic,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. He makes a skull pop up, no bigger than the size of my thumb. “Really?”

“Yes, _really_ , now what do you want it to do?”

“Have it shoot out a blast, and I’ll see how close I can get my hand to it.”

He listens and I hold my pinky near the white stream of power, feeling heat the closer I get. Without another thought, I drop it through and feel a deep burn, jerking my hand back with a hiss of pain.

Sans rolls his eyes, “Seriously? What’s the damage?”

“Ah, it’s fine,” I say, hiding my hand. He makes the skull disappear and holds a hand out. I realize he must’ve taken his gloves off when I freaked out, and I notice them stuffed into his pockets.

“I’m not asking again,” he says impatiently.

“Hey, at least you know you have defense against anyone now,” I say, trying to joke.

“I am never going to use blue magic on you unless I have to, but you’re _really_ tempting me right now,” he says, his eyes dimming.

I roll my eyes, “Gosh dude, _I’m_ supposed to be the overbearing sibling.”

His expression doesn’t change and I sigh, revealing my finger. The flesh is clearly third-degree burned, and my eyes immediately dart away from the sickening sight. No wonder I can’t feel my pinky.

“ _Damn it_ , Krista,” he hisses. “Why do you let your curiosity get the best of you?”

“I’ve been asking that same question for months now,” I smirk, averting my gaze from the wound. He grabs my left hand with his right one, and I immediately feel a cooling sensation rush over the burn.

He sighs, “And Chara did _that_ to your whole arm?”

“Worse, but that’s a nice kid’s version of it.”

He’s silent for a couple seconds before saying, “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you what exactly humans are made of. It’s not magic, but I know there’s something important _like_ it.”

“What do you mean?” I ask innocently as he lets go of my hand. I look at my finger, perfectly healed.

“Well, I kind of noticed it when I healed your arm a few months ago, but I didn’t know what exactly it was. Here, I know it didn’t show up because that was a burn and not an open wound.”

“Ah, you’ll know eventually,” I say, beginning to walk out of the sparring ring, my body knowing it’s done for the day before my brain does.

He catches up with a faint chuckle, “So you’re just going to wait until you’re horribly injured again?”

“Pretty much. I’m no health teacher so I can’t explain it without showing. The next time I have some injury; I’ll let you know when class is in session.” I give him a wink and he frowns. “Aw come on, you know that’s not a guarantee. Hey, since you’ve been such an awesome brother, how about I pay for Grillby’s? My treat,” I offer.

“You know, I just put everything on my tab now so you don’t freak out about our money supply.”

I stop in my tracks, “A _tab_?”

“Yeah,” he says, as if he’s doing me a favor.

“You have to pay it back at some point!”

“Yeah, but for regulars, the due date can be up to ten years,” he says, amusement finally glimmering back into his eyes.

“Are you insane? Can you even imagine how many hundreds of thousands of Gs that will be?”

“And I’ll pay for everything when I get there,” he says calmly.

“Sans, do you understand what _debt_ is?” I ask, grabbing his shoulders.

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, of course.”

“Then you should be afraid of it! You should do everything you can to avoid it! Why do you think I’m so damn stingy?”

“Yeah, is that a human thing? Cuz Muffet makes it seem like it is,” he says as if it’s a philosophical topic.

“Ah ha-ha- _ha_ ,” I fake laugh, “No it’s not, but it should be for everybody because saving is important.”

“Yeah but you hoard money like a paranoid dragon,” he chuckles.

“That’s it, we’re going right to Grillby’s, and _I’m_ paying your tab. How _stingy_ is that?” I ask, taking off.

“Oh no, you’re not!” he says and I realize what he’s going to do. “I’ll see you there sis,” he smirks before shortcutting away.

“Oh you stubborn, _stubborn_ skeleton,” I grumble, clearing the forest and reaching the short bridge near my post.

“Family problems?”

I create a sword and whip around, pointing it straight at Flowey.

He laughs, “Been a while, hasn’t it? I hope you’ve enjoyed your last couple months of happiness! Because guess what? I. Am. _Bored_. I just thought I’d give you a warning. Maybe it’ll help you remember so you can regret your decision to ignore me.”

“When?” is all I ask, feeling nothing but icy dread.

Flowey lifts his chin, “Oh… I’ll be nice and give you the rest of the day. But _tomorrow_ … well, you might just wake up without a family again.”

I move to cut his head off when he drops underground with one last snicker, delighting in the amount of power he holds over me.

My sword disappears, but my fingers curl into tight fists and I feel my magic stirring in my chest, restless. I _refuse_ to just let everyone I love and everything I’ve worked for to be taken from me. Not again. But how do I stop this, then?

I walk over the bridge and past my station, coming up with nothing as my magic flutters and shifts, agitated. I bite my lip to keep from screaming in frustration. What can I do!?

I see something bright flicker in the corner of my eye and I stop, turning to see a shimmering yellow star on the ground. It winks and sparkles, as if it has its own form of sentience. What the hell?

I walk up to it and tense when my magic practically roars in response to the proximity, as if... as if it knows this is my saving grace.

I touch the star and a black menu pops up in front of me with Flowey’s bright yellow name in the top left corner. In the middle is the text _LV 173_ and I suck in a sharp breath. That can’t be right. Level _173_ . How many monsters has he killed? Is there no limit to the amount of L.O.V.E. someone can gain? Or is it because he’s soulless? In the top right corner is a number so long that it makes my eyes hurt: _2558040:14_. Is that… the time? The fourteen changes to fifteen and so on at second intervals until the last zero becomes a one. That must be since his last Save, which means it’s been over two and a half million minutes since August sixth. Damn, why not have it in hours at least? Or does he usually burn through Saves so fast that he gets bored within an hour?

On the bottom of the menu is a _Save_ option to the left and _Reset_ to the right. My heartbeat speeds up as I lift my hand to the Save option and it disappears. My throat tightens, believing Flowey’s caught me, but when I drop my hand, it returns. I lift my hand to the Reset option and it disappears too. My magic flares as my anger rises again. Is there nothing I can do? _No, there is_.

I put my hand on the surprisingly tangible screen, right in between the options. I take a deep breath and let my magic act on its own as it thrashes inside me, begging to do what I want. A purple box begins to form, and I smile as I remove my hand, an option reading _Persevere_ glows so brightly the _Save_ and _Reset_ options dim away. Flowey’s name and statistics disappear too, leaving nothing but _Persevere_ on the black screen. The yellow star turns purple, and I write my name in the top corner of the screen, declaring my control.

I slam my hand against the _Persevere_ option and feel my magic surge with joy as it lunges for the screen. My knees buckle from how much power leaves me, but a wicked grin creeps onto my face as I feel the faintest change in the air. If I did what I think I did… then Flowey just lost his Reset point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The star is still going to look the same to Flowey, it's just different for Krista because it shows her what she controls.
> 
> I didn't realize how long this chapter was until I went through it today o_O. Next chapter will be shorter... but I'll give you a warning right now that it's... _less friendly_ than this one.


	27. You Knew It Was Coming

It takes me a few minutes to recover from using so much magic, but I eventually make it to Grillby’s and act as if I’m simply annoyed at Sans for leaving me behind. When he’s not looking, I sneak Grillby two 500G coins, hoping it’ll subdue some portion of Sans’ tab.

I never find the opportunity to tell Sans about Flowey’s plans or my actions against them. I can only hope that I at least saved myself from reliving months of hell all over again.

It’s a struggle to fall asleep that night, and Cody eventually sleeps on the floor as I spin and spin and spin, trying to get comfortable, but knowing I can’t be when my brain refuses to turn off. I find myself staring out the window as the snow falls in chunky flakes, enjoying every second of the pure bliss of watching something so beautiful while I’m wrapped in a warm blanket.

If I failed… then at least I can say this was a good run, and I hope I’ll find my way back here again. The sheer amount of time and effort that will be put into that is exhausting, but if I can find my way home to my new family, then it will be worth it.

I drift off at some point, but it feels like my eyes open seconds later to a bright morning. I jump off the couch and run into the kitchen, checking the date. October 21st is the next date to cross out. I sigh with relief and tiny tears prick my eyes, even though that could just mean Flowey was lying and intends to Reset when my guard is down. I think I might have to hunt him down today and threaten _him_ , for once.

The morning goes by as usual and I make it to my post with Cody trotting by my side, happily kicking up the fresh snow.

“It’s a great morning in Snowdin, isn’t it?” I ask him, feeling a little skip in my step as I think of a song I heard on Mettaton’s show last night. I’m hoping beyond anything that this means my magic worked. _Please_ let it be true.

Cody follows me around for an hour before going to sleep by my station. He always tires himself out so fast when there’s a new layer of snow. I hum a couple songs as I walk on my own, just halfway down the path to the Ruins door when I hear a rustle behind me.

“What did you do!?” Flowey screams.

I stop and smile broadly, turning to face him. “Good morning, Flowey. What could ever possess you to be so angry on a lovely day such as this one?”

His stem grows until he’s at my height level, his teeth gritted in rage. “You did something that changed my Reset point. _What was it_?”

“Huh? What happened? Because as I recall from yesterday, you said I’d wake up without a family. Well, maybe you’re thinking of different people, but I’m still as happy as I can be.”

“ _What did you do_?” he says, quieter.

I give him a sweet smile, “I simply denied your wish. I’m guessing you’re used to getting your way so let me make this clear for you: if you do _anything_ that jeopardizes my life or my family’s, then you’re going to face some retaliation.”

He stiffens, but suddenly smiles, “You think you’re so powerful?”

“No, but I’ll find ways to make you hurt if I have to,” I threaten.

Flowey laughs, “Aww, I guess the whole ‘friends’ thing is out the window, isn’t it?”

“You’re the one who seems to be so interested in violence. If we can avoid it, then sure, we can try to be friends,” I say genuinely.

He smiles, “You know… I tried that a long time ago… but it’s just so _boring_. People become so predictable after a while. I’ve learned that violence is the only way to learn their true personalities. You won’t believe how many cowards I’ve met over the years.”

“Have you ever thought about just moving on? Every day is different, so why relive past ones?”

“Because every day is the _same_ no matter how far you let the years go. Everything you do is meaningless if you just let the world do what it wants. So when you gain a power like mine, exploring your options is a natural reaction. Imagine looking at someone, knowing you’ve strangled them to death, and they don’t even know it. They will smile at you and even worship you, but they’ll never know you’re the reason they suffered in another life.”

“That’s psychotic,” I hiss.

“Oh, really? Tell me, Krista, has there ever been anyone in your life that you wish you could see in a different light? Maybe someone who was powerful, and you wanted to see them beg for mercy?”

“ _No_ ,” I say sternly, even though it is a _slight_ lie. “You know why? Because I’m in a better place now, without them. What happened, happened, and I can leave it in the past.”

Flowey scoffs, “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“No, I don’t think _you_ get it. You should make life better for others in every way you can. You should find new things to enjoy and learn. There’s no sense in making the world suffer just because you can.”

“And what if I’ve already done all that? What if I’ve already discovered how to make everyone happy… and realized it brings _me_ no joy? What if I’ve read every book and learned everything I can? What more is there to do?”

“You haven’t destroyed the Barrier, there’s something.”

He scoffs, “There’s nothing to do when we don’t have a Determination human.”

“Then you let time move forward because they _will_ come someday. Guess what happens then? You’re free to discover the human world, and trust me when I tell you there are endless things to learn. So I did you a favor by changing your Reset point, you’re now so much closer to a new world. And even if you don’t listen to me and Reset, all that’s already happened can’t be undone.”

His eyes narrow, but then a wicked smile creeps onto his face. “So you want time to move forward _no matter what_?”

“Why the emphasis?” I ask, not liking that expression.

I hear Cody yelp in the distance and I look up to see a dark green stem sticking out of the ground, holding him around his middle. I take a step forward and Flowey tightens his grip, making Cody yelp again.

“Now here’s how things are going to play out. You let me do whatever I want… and maybe I’ll let time move forward at some point. But you try to stop me, and I _promise_ , you will never see tomorrow for the rest of eternity. Or… I kill everyone you love and never Reset again, just so you can live the rest of your worthless life knowing you were the cause of their deaths. It’s your choice,” Flowey says, smiling brightly.

“You really are insane,” is all I say, trying to figure out how I can get to Cody.

The flower laughs, “I’d like to think of myself as reasonable. After all, if I control time, then shouldn’t everyone bow to me?”

“That’s the exact same self-absorbed ideology Determinations had,” I snap. “And you know what happened? Perseverants and Justices _stopped_ them.”

Flowey smirks, “As far as I can tell, you’re alone on the remembering part. So do you _really_ think you can stop me all by yourself?”

I hear a cry from Cody so sickening it freezes my blood as Flowey suddenly jerks the stem to the right... and snaps Cody’s spine. He carelessly drops my unmoving puppy to the ground and gives me a sweet smile.

“Face it, human. You have no power over me. I am _God of the Underground_ , and you’re just a speck of dust in the air.”

I take a deep breath as Cody’s final cry echoes in my head. A cry begging for help, and I did _nothing_.

Flowey laughs, “Nothing to say? I guess that means reality finally hit you. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to-”

He’s silenced by my sword slicing through his stem, and his head falls to the ground. His stem drops and I step around it to observe his face, frozen in shock. I crush it with my boot, grinding it into the snow.

“You are not a god. And neither am I. But I just might be stronger of the two of us,” I whisper, kicking his smashed remains to the side and walking to Cody.

He lies in the snow, his body still holding traces of warmth. His spine is snapped at a ninety-degree angle so his shoulders touch the base of his tail. Dead.

My chest tightens and I feel tears silently slip down my face as I stroke his fur. “I’m so sorry, puppy,” I whisper.

Of course it’s my fault, _all_ my fault. I should have attacked Flowey sooner or distracted him or _anything_ . But I did the worst thing possible: absolutely _nothing_ . It’s what got Mable killed, and this time I actually had the power to stop it. Cody didn’t deserve this, and I don’t care that time can Reset, it doesn’t change the fact that I failed him. I should have learned my lesson with Mable, but I’m still too worthless to save anyone. I bet that even if I had all the power in the world, I would still be a miserable failure. Because that is what I am and no amount of magic can change it. How lucky that Determination powers practically give you unlimited redos in life. How fitting that _my_ power makes mistakes permanent. It’s a testament to what I am: someone _meant_ to lose all that she loves. Isn’t that what I’ve always deserved?

I don’t know how long I pet my puppy’s corpse, but it must be hours until I hear snow crunch ahead of me. “Hey, I was wondering why you weren’t back yet for lu-” Sans’ voice dies when I look up at him, and his eyes drift down to Cody. “What _happened_?”

I point to Flowey’s remains down the path. I had only wondered for a second why he didn’t dust, but it’s because he’s not a monster. He’s still a physical flower that just gained magic to be sentient. At least I can enjoy the pleasure of crushing his head over and over again.

Sans analyzes Flowey’s decapitated head before coming back to me and rubbing my shoulder. “Why now?” he asks, and I see faint tears in his eye sockets.

“He warned me yesterday that he was going to Reset,” I say, and tell him how I changed the point in time to today.

“So you can control time, too?” he asks.

“No, he has control over when to Save and Reset; I think I can only affect the Reset day.”

Sans takes a deep breath and it shudders when he exhales. He’s silent for a minute before saying, “Do you... want to bury Cody?”

I close my eyes at hearing that word: _bury_. That’s right; Cody is now a cold, lifeless body.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” I whisper, looking back at Flowey’s remains. “What if he Resets soon and it won’t matter?”

“Are you sure?” Sans asks.

I suddenly feel a sharp pain in my head and wince, “I’m sure now.”

“I feel it, too,” Sans says, his face slightly contorting in pain. “I’ll come straight here.”

“But then he’ll know you remember, too.”

“You think I care about that?”

I shrug as the pain increases, knowing I can’t fight him. A blink later, I’m standing back in the middle of the path, staring at Flowey as he howls with laughter.

“Wow! I didn’t think you had it in you to kill me so suddenly, but you do! I haven’t been caught off guard like that in years! Oh, you’re going to make such a great partner,” Flowey says.

“Partner?” is all I ask.

“Well, not as in ‘friendship partner,’ but definitely in terms of amusement. You’ll surprise me, I’ll surprise you. It’ll be a real treat for me. Probably not so much for you though.”

He gives me a sly smile and sweeps my feet out from under me with one of those green vines. My head hits the ground, but I force myself up as fast as possible. I’m guessing he used roots before because they were thin and fragile, to throw me off guard. Those vines are his true strengths, and I’m betting they’re enough to snap my spine, too.

I suddenly hear a blaster charge, and I sprint off the path to get out of the way. Flowey doesn’t even have time to turn around before Sans obliterates him into a pile of ash.

“You okay?” Sans asks and I nod, glad that the sound of the charge didn’t make me forget where I was. I hear a bark and turn to see Cody running towards me, his eyes wide with confusion.

“Cody!” I scream, bolting for him and slamming my knees into the ground, pulling him into a hug. He wags his tail and gives me a few licks, but I can tell he’s confused. After sitting with his corpse for hours, it’s like a dream to hold him, to feel his warmth. _Alive_.

“I don’t know how much time we have,” Sans says behind me and I nod, jumping up to walk to the purple star, holding Cody the whole time. Sans rubs our puppy’s head and says, “You mean more to us than you know.”

I pull up the menu when I reach the star and look to Sans. “Can you see this?”

He nods, but Cody barks and gives me his SOUL. “What is going on? What are you looking at?”

“Remember the flower?” I ask and he nods.

“Well he can control time, and my magic lets me see how he does it.”

Cody’s ears flatten as he thinks about the facts. “Did… did I die?”

I can only nod and give his SOUL back. “Sans, can you get him home?”

“Sure,” he says, taking Cody who stares at me with wide eyes.

“It’s to keep you safe, okay?” I ask him.

He slowly nods before they disappear. I turn to the screen and wait, paranoid of the oncoming pain that will signify Flowey’s Loading his Save. Changing his Reset point must give him no choice but to keep continuing with time since I’m betting it eliminates all previous Save points. How’s that for playing God, Flowey?

Sans is back in seconds with a grim expression. “Is this our life now? Living in paranoia of the next Reset or Load of a Save point?”

“I don’t want it to be, but what can we do?” I ask.

His only response is a sigh, as clueless as I am. I hit the _Persevere_ option with only the faintest hope that this means Flowey is dead for good, but it can’t. Determination is a power greater than mine, which means even though he’s dead, I’m only throwing him a little further forward in time to come back to.

I collapse as I feel my power surging through the menu, simmering through the air as it establishes _this very second_ is the new Reset point.

Sans catches me and holds me up as I tremble, taking deep breaths to steady myself.

“We should get home, too,” he murmurs, shortcutting us to the house and helping me to the couch.

“What if he comes back today?” I ask, resting my head in my hands.

“Then we’ll fight and win, simple as that,” he says, offering me a glass of water.

“Your optimism is endearing and all, but I’m not sure if it’ll be that simple.”

“Then we’ll figure it out. I know we can.”

At Sans’ insistence, we spend the rest of the day at home, causing a concerned Papyrus and a furious Undyne to enter that night.

“Ngaaah! Where were you two today? I heard neither of you were at your posts!” Undyne yells.

“Sorry, we took the day off. Krista wasn’t feeling well, and I was being a caring brother,” Sans says smoothly.

 “Really? How bad is it? Are you okay?” Papyrus asks, rushing over to my spot on the couch to touch my forehead.

“I’m feeling better; I think Snowdin’s cold was gonna get to me at some point since it affects me so easily,” I say.

“Oh, well that’s relief if it was something simple. You know Sans and I have healing magic if you’re ever feeling too bad,” Papyrus says.

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” I say brightly.

Undyne calms down eventually, but still demands that we tell her when we need to take off work.

“Right, we’ll remember that,” Sans says as if he’s a brand new employee.

With the brightness of our house and the warm meal Undyne and Papyrus prepare, it’s pretty easy to forget the threat of Flowey’s imminent return. But I shove the fear aside and focus on enjoying the time, fearing this kind of happiness will soon fade from reality.

I probably only get four hours of sleep as I try to focus on Cody’s warmth, resting a hand on his back the entire night. I know better than anyone how valuable time is with those I love, and if there’s one thing I can say today’s experience reminded me of: it’s that I can’t take _any_ of this for granted. Sure, my darkest feelings believe I deserve to be alone, but it’s easy to shove them aside when happiness wraps its arms around me.

At about three in the morning, I finally realize what’s keeping me up. The Reset point. I could update it now and have a whole day sealed off to time. The only problem is how far I’ll have to go to get to the purple star. What if Flowey comes back before I make it?

It only takes me a second to realize that doesn’t matter; I need to _try_ . I don’t even change out of my pajamas as I throw on my coat and boots, taking the undersnow tunnel. When I walk past the inn, I stop when I catch a flash of purple right before Lavora’s shop. A star, and when I touch it, my same menu pops up. Can they appear anywhere in the Underground? Or are there only specific points? I sigh with relief just knowing that there’s one so close to home and hit _Persevere_ , feeling a much stronger sense of power than usual.

I recover much faster this time and make it home with only a few tremors running up my arms. Hopefully, _hopefully_ , I can keep time moving this way.

In the morning, Papyrus takes off after telling me to take it easy today, and Sans refuses to let me go to my post alone.

“I’ll just tell Undyne I was still a little concerned,” he says with a wink.

I give Cody a hug and convince him to stay in the house. As much as he wants to come with us, I don’t want to worry about two people.

“It’s just until we get this under control, okay?” I ask him, and he eventually nods in agreement.

As we walk to my post, I tell Sans about what I did with the Reset last night and he smiles, “Another day he can never reach again.”

“Let’s just hope I can do that every night,” I say.

But my heart drops when we near my station and Flowey’s voice rings, “So you both have some power, interesting.” Our heads sharply snap in his direction just before the bridge and he gives us a bright smile, “Are you really that afraid of me that you’re gonna update the Reset point every day? Well golly, I’m quite flattered.”

“You just stay away from us,” Sans threatens, creating five blasters. I form a sword and take a few steps to the right so there’s some distance between us.

Flowey laughs, “Then _make_ me.”

Sans fires off the blasters and Flowey ducks underground in the knick of time, popping up behind us and pulling us off our feet. Sans is up faster than I am, and I wave him forward to find Flowey, so disoriented I’m seeing spots.

“You two are so cute, caring about each other so much, caring about that dog so much, caring about _your brother_ so much,” Flowey says, his voice sounding slightly echoed.

I look up to see him towering about a hundred feet up, his main stem as thick as the trees surrounding us. Sans holds at least twenty blasters at the ready, assessing for when it’s the right time to strike.

“And you’re just a soulless husk of Determination, completely alone in this world. How’s that workin’ out for ya?” Sans asks in a demeaning tone.

“Better than things will go for _you_ ,” Flowey says, lunging for the blasters.

Sans sets them off and Flowey holds up hundreds of layers of vines to protect himself, leaving several untouched as the blasters diminish.

I make it to my feet and form countless tiny dots of magic, infusing the pain I felt at seeing Cody’s corpse. Flowey deserves to feel _every second_ of that agony.

I send them at him and he shrieks when the dots dig into his vines like burning acid.

“If you’re so curious about violence and pain, then let me offer you some,” I say, my voice carrying a tone so commanding I don’t even recognize it.

Sans takes the opportunity to send bones up from the ground into Flowey’s stem, chipping away at the base. I see magenta smoke hiss from the impacts, and Flowey screeches in pain. As he attacks the main stem, I hack away at Flowey’s numerous vines that are spread out in front of him, dodging when he reaches for me and cutting the vines off at the ground.

Just when I think we have the upper hand, I feel something hit my SOUL with such a deep, burning pain that I gasp, my magic disappearing.

Sans looks back in concern and I point to Flowey, telling him who needs more attention right now.

“Yes, just _what_ was that pain, Krista?” Flowey asks, his laugh low and mocking.

I force myself to stand straighter, and I send spikes into his stem, driving them clean through. Flowey doesn’t seem to care as he drops underground and appears down the path to the Ruins door, seemingly healed as his stem looks brand new.

“It’s _awfully_ crowded up there. Why not come down here where there’s more space? Or should I involve your brother first so you’ll feel you have better chances?”

Sans looks back to where I’m holding a hand over my heart, still feeling that simmering pain. “You stay here,” he says softly, his left eye burning a deep blue.

“Like hell I am,” I hiss back, wincing as the pain shoots into my shoulders.

“Exactly,” he says, shortcutting to Flowey down the path.

“Damn it,” I say, biting my lip and commanding myself to straighten, to walk because I _refuse_ to let him fight alone.

“I’m not ready for you yet,” Flowey laughs and I see a white ball of magic out of the corner of my eye a second too late as it slams into my shoulder. The pain crackles through my whole body like a shockwave, and I collapse to the ground, fighting to simply _breathe_. “You better save your sister,” I hear Flowey tease, but thankfully, Sans keeps up the fight.

I hate myself for every second I waste in just trying to get to my feet again. When I do, stabs of pain pierce through my head, pricking their ways down my neck and towards my SOUL. Black spots and stars all burst in my vision as I try to blink them away, and before I know it, I’m on the ground once more as Flowey swipes my feet out from under me again. Bastard loves that trick, doesn’t he?

It takes me double the amount of time to get back up, and when I do, my heart drops at what I see. Sans is burning himself out way too fast. His moves are sloppier, his bullets are decreasing, and Flowey doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest.

I can’t feel my legs as I walk, but I make myself move to them, over the bridge and down the path, building a ball of magic in my right hand. I pour every drop of anger and hatred I feel into the energy, faintly noticing my usual shade of purple is much darker.

“Finally up to fight?” Flowey asks, leaning down to just above my head and I chuck the energy into his face. He screams so loud I have to cover my ears as his head is thrown back. I think we just might have a chance to get away when he whips his head back down to look at us seconds later. Half of his petals are gone and there’s a chunk missing of the left side of his face.

“You must really want to die, then,” he growls.

I form another ball of energy and grab Sans’ arm, realizing that he’s shaking. I sneak a glance at him before turning back to Flowey, unsure of who I should be more concerned about. Just from my glance, he’s in bad shape. The blue glow in his left eye is flickering out, and his bones feel thinner than they should be. His magic must nearly be drained by now, which can’t be good in relation to his condition. What if he loses too much and he dusts?

I shove the thought down and keep backing away, dragging him with me.

“Aww, getting tired? But we’ve barely begun!” Flowey declares, reaching for us, and I chuck my next wave of magic at him. He carelessly blocks it with a thick vine and gives me a wicked grin. “Come on, I expected better from a Perseverant.”

A vine suddenly wraps around Sans and he’s thrown to the left, pushed against a tree. “I’ve had enough of his magic, from what I can see, he might very well dust soon! How strange that you have so much power, yet are so physically fragile, and that’s saying a lot for a monster!” Flowey laughs and snaps a vine at me, but I cut it with a sword.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up either with my vision failing as the pain continues to spark in my skull.

“Would you like to know what I hit you with?” Flowey asks as if he knows the pain is still affecting me.

He forms two of those white balls of magic and smiles brightly, “Friendliness pellets! Don’t they make you feel all the love I have for you!”

He throws the first one and I’m just barely able to block it with a shield. I’m not so lucky with the second one as it hits my left side and throws me to the right. Before I can even comprehend where I end up, Flowey’s gigantic face is only a couple feet from mine as he whispers, “And I want to see you _bleed_.”

I feel a sting against the left side of my neck and he wraps me in a vine, holding me at least a story up and turning me upside down. I can barely see anything as the world suddenly seems too bright, and I feel all my blood slowly falling to my head, where he cut a vein in my neck. I try to conjure magic, but my arms hang heavy and limply, useless.

“Let her go!” I hear Sans scream louder than I’ve ever heard, and I spot him on the ground, free of the vines.

“Heehee! Come and get her,” Flowey says, tossing me into another vine, and the jolt of the movement makes me scream as I feel an extra rush of blood gush from my wound.

Sans forms a few blasters, but they flicker as his magic weakens. He’s going to kill himself if he pushes any further.

“It’s not worth it,” I try to scream, but my voice barely comes out as a whisper.

“Hmm? What was that?” Flowey asks, relishing our helpless situation.

My vision starts to fade in and out as I struggle to breathe, feeling the blood run up my neck, around my ear, and through my hair before falling to the ground in a steady stream.

Flowey smirks, “Looks like I’ve found your limits, albeit this was just the first run. Aren’t you excited for all the _numerous_ possibilities?”

He tosses me to another vine and lowers me to the ground, dropping me near where Sans is.

“There. Enjoy watching her die because this is just the first of many times,” Flowey says, before roaring with laughter and dropping underground, silencing the world.

“Krista!” Sans yells, dropping to his knees next to me and staring at my bleeding wound.

I give him a weak smile and point to the blood, “Class is in session.”

“I can fix it; you’ll be okay,” Sans says, reaching for my wound, but I smack his hand away.

“You’ll kill _yourself_ if you try to heal me now,” I say sternly, trying to keep my eyes open. I just _know_ I’ve lost enough blood that I should’ve passed out a minute ago.

“You’re not dying!” he yells, trying to reach, but I grab his wrists.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’ll come back.”

“And how long will that be? Years? He can wait for as long as he wants, and I am not going to let him win!”

His yelling makes my ears ring, and I close my eyes to subdue the pain. “I should have told you this a while ago, but I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

“Krista,” he says sternly, still trying to fight what is coming.

I open my eyes and hold his hands above my heart. “I love you, Sans. Can you tell? Maybe not, but I love you. You’re my brother, and I know you’d die for me. But I don’t want you to right now.”

His tears fall onto our locked hands, and he rests his forehead on my shoulder. “I love you, too, Krista, more than anything I am.”

“I know,” I whisper, wrapping an arm around him.

My breaths become shorter as I feel my body cooling already, the snow draining away my remaining wisps of warmth. I don’t know if Mable had time to feel anything when she died. I don’t know if my father did either. But he told me Mom did; it was probably a lie to make me feel better.

I always wondered what kinds of thoughts would go through my head. And even now I don’t know what to think. Do I wonder about where my soul goes? Or do I wonder how my family will live in a world without me?

I don’t know what to think, but it doesn’t matter as I hold onto my brother, feeling tears of my own slide down my temples. A sense of peace settles in me. It’s unsure, but it’s hopeful. This is probably the first of many deaths, and there’s no point in fighting something we can’t fix.

It’s really not so bad, that uncertainty. I guess... this is how it feels to die.

***

Sans felt, rather than heard, his sister’s final breath. It was nothing more than a soft whisper, a final goodbye. He pushed himself up to look at her face, a shade of white so pale he knew it wasn’t one she could ever have alive. It was peaceful, her eyes closed and her lips just barely parted, as if she was sleeping. But he knew death was nothing like sleep.

The longer he stared, the more he began to silently beg her to open her eyes, to breathe, to smile. Hell, she could scream at him for all he cared, as long as she was still alive, still with him. _He_ should have been the one to tell Krista he loved her a long time ago. It was something she deserved to know, and he didn’t say it until just before she died. Even then, it was after _she_ said it first. Sans hated himself for his cowardice, to fear she wouldn’t reciprocate that love even when she so clearly showed it every day.

After all she’d been through, and this was how life ended for her: drained of that red liquid he knew was what kept humans alive, frozen in the snow. He didn’t care that Flowey could reset time, it didn’t change the fact that Krista had _died_ , then and there.

Was this the kind of pain she felt when her mother died? When her own sister died? Maybe it was better that monsters turned to dust because then their loved ones didn’t have to stare at their lifeless bodies.

The arm she had wrapped around him was beginning to stiffen, and he gently laid it on her chest, devoid of breath. Her locket had been soaked with that red liquid as it had fallen to rest beside her wound. The liquid still trickled into the snow, staining it crimson. He recalled her distaste for the color when she had tried on that coat the same shade. It made him realize how many subtle reminders of death she had to suffer through every day.

Sans grabbed the locket and wiped the cooling liquid off, revealing the purple and green heart. He had wanted to know what her family looked like ever since she told him about the picture she carried. But he refused to look now, without her permission. He’d rather try to take it and have her smack his arm with that teasing smile she often gave him.

Snow suddenly began to fall, fast and in thick flakes. They landed on her face and remained frozen, sending a surge of sorrow through him at that certainty. She had once told him her father left her to die in the snow when he whipped her, creating those brutal scars on her back. Krista didn’t give him many details beyond that, but he could now imagine that red liquid freezing to her back as she dragged herself through the snow.

The thought made Sans shake even more, the number of times she had come so close to death but to survive all the same. It made him hate himself that _this_ was how she died, and he could have saved her. He shouldn’t have listened to Krista… because his own death would have been better than _this_ . A sick feeling suddenly overwhelmed him, one that just _knew_ she thought she deserved it, and he felt a snap of pain pierce his SOUL when he remembered what he said to her just a couple months ago. Those awful, anger-driven words… and they made her believe she should have died a long time ago. Sans knew for a _fact_ that he was the one who should have died a long time ago, yet there he was, still breathing, the most unworthy creature to ever do it.  

Sans understood why she didn’t want to bury Cody. Not just because time would reset soon, but because of the statement a burial made. It meant you were officially saying goodbye. It meant that you were ready to move on without that person in your life anymore.

But he wasn’t ready, and he didn’t care that he felt his bones were on the verge of crumbling. He was going to find Flowey even if it killed him, and he was going to make that damn flower _**hurt** _.


	28. Hidden Truths

My eyes open to a foreign world: a grassy meadow covered in wildflowers of every color, and in the distance, snow-capped mountains sparkle in the morning sun. A steady breeze rolls over the hills, blowing sweet spring air that smells like every flower and fruit I can imagine. Only a handful of puffy clouds float in the deep blue sky, and I close my eyes to savor the warmth of the sun.

How did I get here?  _ When  _ did I get here? It feels like I shouldn’t be standing in this meadow, as if it’s too early. As if I have unfinished business. But where? I can’t remember what led me here, but a tiny feeling tells me it was something horrific.

“Krista!” I hear Mable yell behind me.

I turn around to see my family standing just a few yards away, my parents and my little sister. I sprint to them and crush them into a hug, as if I haven’t seen them in years. Why would it have been that long? It wouldn’t be. I’d never leave them, and they would never leave me.

“We’ve missed you,” Mom says.

“I’m right here,” I say, confused. Where have I been that would separate me from them? 

She smiles and brushes my hair to the side, “And you can’t stay for long.”

“Why?” I ask.

My dad cups my face with a hand, “It’s not your time, little gem. You still have so much to do.”

“But why me? Why can’t you come with me?”

Mable points to the distant mountains, and I realize I have to go back to them. Back to that place where it’s cold. Where the world is painful and dark.

“No, please. I want to stay with you. I love you, don’t you love me?” I ask, feeling tears fill my eyes. Why do I have to go alone?

“We love you more than anything, but it’s a place we can’t go back to. I promise we’ll be waiting for you when the journey is over, but for now, you have to live it,” Mom says.

“No, it’s not fair. It’s not fair! Please, how can I stay?” I beg.

All they do in response is hug me and my dad says, “We’re so proud of you, more than you can understand right now. It will all make sense one day, but for now, just remember that we’re with you every step of the way. We’ll see you again, baby girl.” 

Then I feel them slip from my grasp one by one. First Mom, then Dad, and finally Mable. She holds me as tightly as her little arms can, resting her head against my shoulder.

“You’re the best sister I could have ever had, and I don’t regret anything. Remember that the simple things mean everything,” she tells me, before disappearing.

Tears blur my vision so much that I can barely see the beautiful meadow, but I feel that cold approaching, pulling me back to an unforgiving world. I don’t want to go, but a feeling tells me this is for the best.

***

I open my eyes to a dim room, on a couch with a warm puppy resting his head on my stomach. I push myself up on my elbows to see it’s snowing outside, making shadows dance on the orange wall to my right. The second door opens upstairs and a short skeleton steps out of the room, the sight of him flooding my mind with memories. They all hit me at once, but I focus on the final fact:  _ I died _ . 

“Sans?” I whisper, unsure of what to ask.

He shortcuts down to me and pulls me into a crushing hug, his whole body trembling.

“You’re alive; you’re okay,” is all he whispers, his voice shaking from emotions.

I just hug him back, trying to comprehend everything that led to my death. It was Flowey, and he won the fight. Me being alive again means he Reset, but…

“How long was it?” I ask.

“Only a few hours, he died not long after you…” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

“You killed him?”

“I tortured him first, but yes, he died,” my brother says with so much hatred I almost don’t recognize his voice.

“Do I want to know how you would define torture?” I ask, pulling back, certain it means Sans put Flowey through living hell.

He shrugs, “Only if you never want to look at me the same way again.”

“You still had that much energy?” I ask.

His mouth twists to the side, “I kind of uh, took some of that Determination you mentioned was in that secret lab.”

“You  _ what _ ?” I say, my voice loud enough to wake Cody. He startles and gets up to stretch, jumping off the couch as if he already knows we’re talking about something he wouldn’t understand.

“It wasn’t much, just enough to give me a boost,” he says defensively. “I know I wasn’t thinking clearly, but… you know how it feels to see someone you love die. You’ve gotta understand.”

“I do, but do  _ you  _ understand how risky that was?”

“Now I do,” he says with a slight wince, as if things went terribly wrong.

“Sans, what happened?” I ask sternly.

“I think I uh… lost control of it towards the end there. I felt myself enjoying the power, but I didn’t realize my body was dusting from the intensity of it.”

“You died?”

“Almost, but dead Flowey Reset before that happened.”

“Sans,” I sigh, rubbing my forehead.

“I know what you’re going to say, but frankly, it doesn’t matter now. The most important fact is that we’re okay again.”

“I guess so,” I sigh, moving to a sitting position so he can sit next to me.

“So uh, that red liquid is the stuff that keeps humans alive?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s called blood. It keeps us warm and spreads oxygen around our bodies, to name a couple reasons for why it’s important.”

“And breaking the skin causes you to lose it?”

“Well, in what happened yesterday, or pre-Reset today, whatever, Flowey cut a vein, which is basically a tube the blood travels through. I’ll admit he was pretty smart for turning me upside down, it made me lose it much faster than I would have.”

“It makes sense why you don’t like red,” he says lightly.

“Yeah,” I say, my hand encircling my locket as my thoughts drift to what happened after I died. Why did I have no memory of what happened here? Why didn’t I question why my father was there? True, he looked the way he did before he changed, but does that mean he won’t be punished for his crimes? Or did the person he changed into become a separate entity? I can only hope he was punished in  _ some  _ way. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Sans says cautiously, “if I can see the picture of your family.”

“Oh, sure,” I say, unclipping my necklace and snapping the locket open, holding it up in the light from the window for him to see. He gently takes it from me to look at it closer.

“That’s you?” he asks, pointing to me on the left.

I smile and tilt my head to the side, “I was a cute little kid, wasn’t I?”

He chuckles and points to my sister, “Mable?”

“Yeah, she was only two in that picture so she changed quite a bit by the time she died,” I say, holding onto the fact that I just saw her to push back the sadness. 

“And those are your parents,” he says, squinting to look at them. “You look a lot like your Mom.”

“Yeah, Mable took after Dad more.”

“And this was right before everything changed?”

“Yeah, only by a few months.”

“Do you… wish they hadn’t? If your Mom had lived and you would’ve had a normal life?” 

I take my locket back and sigh, “I wished that after she died, and for years afterwards, even up until a few months ago. But now… I’m not so sure. I know it would’ve avoided immeasurable amounts of pain, but look what it brought me: my brothers.”

Sans shrugs, “I’m not sure if we’re as great as they were.”

“Don’t put yourself below them. I love you just as much as I loved my sister, and nothing will ever change that,” I say, clipping my locket back on with a sigh. “I saw them, just now actually.”

“What do you mean?”

I explain it as best as I can, not ashamed of the tears that escape.

“Where do you think that place was?” he asks.

“Well, there’s a concept of where we go after death that most people believe in, the common terms are heaven and hell. Heaven is considered the place that good people go to as a reward for their actions in life. Hell is considered where evil people go as punishment for their overall bad actions in life. Your morals and choices determine where you’ll go: a heaven of whatever makes you most happy or hell where you’ll burn for eternity. That’s just the general scope of the concepts; there are many different interpretations of how to get to those places and what they’re like. What everyone can agree on in relation to them is that it’s your soul that travels there.”

“So… do you think you went to heaven?”

“I’d like to believe that, although I’ll admit, I didn’t think I was worthy of going there, considering what I’ve done.”

“Krista,” he says, seeming disappointed.

“Well, maybe I do deserve it since I was there. I’ve never seen a place so beautiful in my life, so maybe that was my heaven. Maybe you’ll meet me there when it’s truly over for us,” I say, only half serious because I honestly don’t know if that’s how things would work out.

To my surprise, he smiles, “I hope so.”

***

We try a different tactic this time around and head for Waterfall, hoping we can confuse Flowey enough that he’ll leave us alone today. That’s probably wishful-thinking, but it’s worth a shot. Our reasoning to Undyne will be that we’re doing a full patrol of the Underground to change things up and familiarize ourselves with areas we don’t go to often. Sure, we’re not Royal Guards, but we’ll call it some “Royal Guard in-training practice.” 

Papyrus was more than happy to join us when we invited him, and while it makes me nervous in case Flowey ambushes us, at least he’s not out there alone. Cody trots alongside us, happy to be out of the house after being cooped up yesterday. I feel bad for being so overprotective, but after seeing the kind of power Flowey has, it sets me on edge.

We keep up a light-hearted conversation as usual, but I notice that Sans keeps glancing in my direction, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear at any second. I don’t blame him, considering the circumstances, but I wish I could say something to calm his nerves. As of right now, I’m completely safe. But of course, we know how fast that could change.

We’re near the Ponds when I hear Undyne call from across the water, on the path near her house. “Hey, dorks! It doesn’t take all three of you to watch Waterfall!”

“Yeah, but we got to be familiar with it at some point. Consider today some Royal Guard training,” I say back.

She snorts and takes off towards us in a sprint, leaping right over the water and startling the bird. She tosses her fiery red ponytail and gives us a grin, as if she didn’t just jump across a twenty foot gap. 

“You know some real training would be working in places you’re not used to. So Papyrus, you take Level Two of Hotland today. Sans, you get Snowdin, and we’re going to New Home City, Krista.”

“Yes, Captain Undyne!” Papyrus says professionally before taking off for Hotland.

“Uh, are you sure that’s the best idea? I mean-” I try to think of a good reason,  _ any  _ reason for why we shouldn’t be separated. But I don’t have one beyond the truth, and that’s something I can’t tell without seeming crazy.

“I know, a trip with me sounds intimidating, doesn’t it? But come on! You’ll survive!” Undyne says, throwing an arm around my shoulder and leading me down the path of the Ponds. 

I look back at Sans, asking for help out of this. But he just waves a hand as if I’ll be fine. Sure, I’ve got Undyne with me, but  _ he’ll  _ be alone. And of course, he doesn’t care. He points to Cody as if to justify he’ll be safe with the dog’s protection, and I glare at him to say that’s not funny. He just gives me a stupid smirk before walking back towards Snowdin, waving Cody along.

“You seemed kind of stressed out yesterday, so I thought we’d take it easy today and I’ll show you around the city,” Undyne says, patting my shoulder before removing her arm.

“I just wasn’t feeling the best, that doesn’t mean I’m stressed out,” I argue.

“Maybe, but you were quieter than usual, and trust me when I tell you I’m good at reading people. So what’s up?”

“I just… I don’t feel like I’m being the best sister. I feel like I should be doing more to make them happier, but I don’t know what I can do,” I say, only being partially honest. I do feel like there’s more I can do, but in the end, we’re all as happy as we can be, aside from the recent flower problem.

“Are you freaking serious? You’re an awesome sister, and your brothers are having the time of their lives. Sure, maybe things will need to change eventually. I’m honestly considering Papyrus for a position in New Home City, but he’s still not quite there with sparring. He has this problem where he gets distracted by compliments, and I keep reminding him that’s how an opponent can get the upper hand, but he always forgets. But other than that, he really is worthy of the Guard. I’ll be honest that there aren’t too many more things to do; it’s just how life is down here. But I like to think there will always be something to disrupt the monotony. Which is why I want to show you something.”

She leads me to the Raining Room and I grab an umbrella. Undyne walks into the rain without a thought and we travel to the cavern that faces the castle.

“I’ve been here before, it’s gorgeous,” I say, admiring the stars and placing the umbrella against the stone wall.

“Yeah, but there’s a secret that not many people know about,” she replies, stopping just at the beginning of the path.

Undyne illuminates the rock wall below us with a spear, revealing some small ledges that appear to be worthy footholds. She flashes a grin in my direction, “I doubt you’re afraid of heights. Right, superstar?”

I roll my eyes, “No, I’m not.”

“Good, then just follow me,” she says, sliding off the rock and beginning her descent, scaling the footholds like she’s been doing it her whole life. She probably has.

I follow her as best as I can, but she’s so fast, I almost lose sight of her.

“Come on, slowpoke!” she calls up to me and I realize she’s already on solid ground, or at least a larger piece of stone when I see they’re staggered all over the wall. It takes me a couple minutes to get down to her, extremely wary of some of the stones that are wet from water dripping above. When I finally reach the ledge, she puts her hands on her hips, “Would you like another two hours to wash the dirty pebbles off your dainty fingers?”

I punch her in the arm and she laughs, waving me forward to walk down a smooth, slippery stone path against the wall to our left.

“This area is known as the Wastes since it’s pretty much uninhabitable. It may be pretty from a distance, but when you get down in the rocks, you’ll find some nasty things that refuse to retreat deeper underground. So we leave them be, and this place has become sort of a haven for monsters who believe they deserve to live in the dark. We try our best to keep people from losing that much hope… but there are always those who can’t hold on anymore.”

Undyne guides her hand along the stone wall, her eye scanning out at the rocks as we descend, and I realize the wall is beginning to curve to the left.

“So they just… live down here until they dust?” I ask.

“Well most of them fall down much earlier than they’re supposed to. It’s made traveling to the Wastes synonymous with a wish to die. But for a dumb kid like me, I was able to find some cool things despite this creepy place.”

“Fall down,” I’ve heard that term before, but I’m still not sure what it means.

“Undyne, what does that mean? ‘Fall down’?” I ask.

Her shoulders slump just the slightest bit at my question. “It’s either when a monster knows they’re about to dust, and they prepare for it, or they’re so horribly injured, either physically or mentally, that they just… give up. A monster will look like they’re just sleeping, but you can’t wake them up as much as you may try. Both reasons usually lead to dusting; I’ve only heard of a handful of monsters waking up after falling down, and even then, they didn’t last long.”

“Do all monsters fall down before they dust?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound insensitive.

“Not all, sometimes they just dust when they know the time is right. Some people like to stay conscious when it happens. Some can’t help falling down, while death might arrive so suddenly for others that they don’t have a chance to. It depends.”

“Sorry if I’m prying too much,” I say.

“You’re not, they’re valid questions. And besides, I have questions about humans, too. Like why are all humans either super smart or highly trained fighters?”

I stifle a laugh, “What?”

“You know, they’re either tech geniuses or royalty or amazing swords people,” she says defensively.

“Do you honestly think I fit into any of those categories?” I raise an eyebrow.

She smirks back at me, “True, you’re not much of any of those, but you’re good with magic and you sure can influence a crowd.”

“I think Mettaton deserves more credit on that point.”

“Alright, so you’re none of those then, but I see a fierceness in you that could just possibly bend this kingdom to your will. Heh, don’t tell Asgore that.”

“I can’t tell him something that I don’t even believe myself,” I shake my head.

Undyne stops and I almost walk straight into her before catching myself.

“And there it is: the thing that  _ you  _ don’t see, but the rest of us do,” she boops me on the nose before smirking and striding down the path.

My face twists in annoyance, and I pick up my pace to catch up with her. “So where’d you get that kind of information about humans?”

“Alphys,” she says simply.

“And why is the Royal Scientist telling people that stuff?”

A single laugh escapes Undyne’s throat, “No, it’s just me. She and I are friends.”

_ Really _ ? I’d sooner see Undyne being friends with Mettaton than Alphys. Their personalities are just so… polar. Undyne is strong, outspoken, and assertive, while Alphys, as far as I can tell, is meek, shy, and fearful. I guess it must be an opposites-attract type thing. 

“And what was her source for this information?” I ask as we descend, the castle almost completely out of sight now.

“Anime, the visual documentation of your crazy history,” she gives me a wink and my jaw drops.

_ Anime _ ? Those Japanese cartoon shows? Of my very limited movie/show knowledge, I can honestly say it’s only one type of a hundred other forms of media that I don’t understand. But why anime? How did Alphys even get something like that? The only thing I can tell Undyne for sure about it is that it does not represent human history. I’m sure the shows display human themes and cultures, but not  _ actual history _ . I must’ve really disappointed Undyne when she met me if she was expecting a human to be super powerful or smart.

“Ah, we finally made it,” Undyne says, creating a spear to reveal a small crevice in the stone wall, just big enough that she can fit. She slips through and waves me forward. I follow into a dark cave that is only lit by Undyne’s spear.

“Do you mind helping?” she asks.

I create a globe of light and make it float beside me, scanning the walls of the small cave. My throat tightens when I see claw marks marring the walls. Chunks of stone lie on the floor, torn out of the walls.

“It’s not pretty now, but follow me,” the captain says, leading the way.

There are a few tight twists and turns until the cave opens up to a sparkling cavern, filled to the brim with glittering gems. A deep pool of water takes up the entire center of the rectangular room, and Ceiling Stars of every color are so perfectly reflected that their light bounces off the walls. I realize that there are actually no gems at all, it’s just the light and a few piles of smoky quartz scattered around the room that create the illusion.

“Pretty, huh? I know it’s not the real stuff, but I figured I’d show this to someone who would actually appreciate it,” Undyne says, running a hand through the water.

“How did you find this?” I ask, staring wide-eyed at the gorgeous room.

“Back when I was… oof, twenty-seven, I started searching for little caves and hiding spaces when I was still a pretty young Royal Guard. I wanted to prove I was worthy of being captain by showing my dedication in searching for any possible places a human could hide in. My discoveries were pointless human-wise, but I did learn some interesting monster secrets and discover pretty places like this. It’s a nice place to hide when you really want to be alone, but some of these caverns are not too friendly.”

“What do you mean?”

Her mouth twists to the side, “Let’s just say that there were some creatures the humans and monsters agreed were too dangerous for the Surface. They sealed those creatures down here centuries before the War, and they’ve been wanting revenge ever since. I ran into one when I was thirty-four, and I did not get away unscathed.”

She points to her patched eye and smirks, “Little Undyne didn’t know what she’d gotten herself into until it was too late. I lied about it because right around that time, a human had been spotted in the Underground. I caught the punk, but he wasn’t a challenge in the slightest.”

“So everyone thinks a human did that to you?” I ask, feeling a sense of disgust.

“It’s a better story than saying I made a dumb decision and ran into an ancient creature I knew better than to go searching for. It didn’t make me a war hero or anything… but it probably did help my chances at becoming captain.”

My face twists in disgust and she points a finger at me, “Don’t you give me that look. It was just another thing I tacked onto my resume; I didn’t become captain until forty years later.”

“Can I ask how old you are?” I say cautiously.

She smirks, “174.”

“So you’ve been captain for about a century?”

“I’m pretty good, huh? But honestly, the last captain held his title for four hundred and eighty years. I’ve still got a lot to live up to. For a monster, I’m still considered pretty young. Which makes you practically an infant for monster standards.”

“And you long dead for human standards,” I shoot back.

Undyne laughs, “That’s the crazy thing, isn’t it? You guys are technically more powerful, yet you live ridiculously short lives.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” I say, feeling a chill when I think of “yesterday.”

“Aww, what’s any number of years here when we’re gonna spend an eternity somewhere else?” she asks.

“What do you think happens?”

“I think… we get what we deserve: a fair amount of reward and a fair amount of punishment. Of course, I won’t be the judge of that, it’d be too biased. But I like to think everyone gets something good to some degree. Except maybe the worst of the worst, but I still have yet to meet someone like that.”

It’s definitely a different concept from what I’ve heard most people say, and I don’t exactly agree with it either. But it’s a fair idea, one that I won’t challenge.

I pick up a chunk of quartz and chuck it into the pool, “So do you have all your mortality discussions in secret caves?”

Undyne smirks, “Only with my friends.”

I pause my preparation for tossing another piece of quartz and look at her, “You consider me a friend?”

She rolls her eye, “How do you define ‘friend’? Because anyone I intentionally hang out with for more than five times is a friend in my book. Do you have a long list of standards that I need to meet? Is there a test I need to take to make it official?”

“No, it’s just… I’ve only had one friend in my life, and that was pretty short-lived considering what happened.”

“Well, what made you decide that they were a friend?”

“I don’t know, it was just that… he cared, and he didn’t have to.”

“Well if that’s your only requirement,” she says, walking up and pulling me into a hug that lifts me off the ground, “then we’re total besties!”

“Air, please,” I say as she holds me so tight I think a rib might crack.

“Oh right,” she says, dropping me to the ground and I catch my balance. “Heh, sorry. I’ve never known my own strength too well. I’m surprised even a human like you has some fragility!”

“Yeah, the need for oxygen impairs us all,” I say, taking a few deep breaths.

She laughs and waves me to the cave’s exit. “Come along bestie, there’s someone who wants to meet you.”

***

We stand in front of the door to the lab, and I raise an eyebrow at Undyne. “So she actually said she wants to meet me?”

“Yeah, is that so unbelievable? Because of you, her robot is the star of the Underground. She wasn’t planning on revealing that form to the public for another six months. When she saw your performance, she immediately changed his settings from wanting to kill all humans to just Determinations; she hoped it would make you want to meet her. But then again, Alphys constantly doubts herself, and there was no way she was going to try to approach you. I don’t need to give you pointers since you’ll be able to figure out how she’s like pretty fast, but I’m still asking you to be patient with her. I am not so much just because I want to shake confident decisions out of her, and she knows it. So even though I’m pretty bold... you know what, you get it.”

We walk into the lab to find Alphys sitting at her desk against the left wall, typing away on her computer.

“Guess who, shorty?” Undyne yells, throwing a spear straight through Alphys’ field of vision between her face and the screen. She yelps and jumps back in her chair, her hands shaking a bit from surprise.

Undyne laughs, “How is it that I get you every time!?”

“Because y-you catch me off g-guard at the worst p-possible ti-” Alphys turns to see me standing just a few steps behind Undyne and I wave, already trying to think of lines to say in case she has faint recollections of finding me back in May.

She jumps out of her chair and shoves it under her desk while shakily adjusting her skewed glasses. “Uh- uh, hiya! I- I’m Dr. Alphys, th- the creator of Mettaton. I- I think Asgore had wanted me to meet you a few months ago, b- but my schedule’s been really hectic lately and I never got a chance. And n- now you’re a star and I look like a complete jerk.”

“No, no, I get it. You’re the Royal Scientist, and if anything,  _ I _ should be apologizing for taking time out of your day.” I hold out my hand, “So hi, I’m Krista.”

Alphys chuckles nervously and shakes my hand, her palms cold and clammy. I make sure not to wipe my hand on my jacket, knowing she’d pick up on it and be even more embarrassed by her sweaty palms.

“So is this where you came up with the idea of him? I mean, a robot with a SOUL, how do you even begin with something like that?” I ask.

“O- oh, w- well it’s really sciency stuff like how to contain a SOUL and preserve a personality within a container and other stuff that would just r- really bore you,” Alphys says.

“Aww, come on! I know you can prattle on about that sciency stuff for hours! I don’t understand any of it, but it’s that passion that I love!” Undyne says, jumping on the escalator on the other side of the room that ascends to the second level.

Alphys blushes and hunches her shoulders, “Which all and all m- means it’s really boring stuff.”

I smile, “But it created one heck of an interesting guy. Which, by the way, thanks for making him only want to go after Determination humans; I was a little scared there that he was gonna get me.”

Alphys’ eyes widen, “O- oh yes, I- I should have programmed him like that in the first place. I- it was s- so stupid of me just make him hate all humans.”

“Hey, it’s fixed now; let’s just say that’s helped make him less of a sadist,” I try to joke.

But the word triggers something in Alphys’ mind, and her pupils dilate. “S- sadist?” she whispers.

My throat tightens when I realize my mistake. That was the word I had used to describe  _ Gaster  _ when I first met her.

“I- I feel like I’ve met you before,” she says, squinting at me.

I shrug and try to douse the growing flames. “People always feel like they know celebrities even when they never meet them in real life. It’s that idea that if you watch someone on screen, you can just learn everything about them by viewing their actions.”

Thankfully, Alphys slowly nods in agreement, “Y- yeah, I get what you mean. Heh, I guess that’s a good thing f- for Mettaton at least.”

“He’s certainly the Underground’s biggest star,” I say. “You should be proud of being the reason for that accomplishment.”

“That’s what I say all the time,” Undyne says, jumping off the escalator behind me. “But no, Alphys doesn’t want to listen.”

“There are still lots of things I- I’ve gotta do, l- like the work I was just t- typing up,” Alphys says, hinting at her desire for us to leave.

“Aww, you can waste a couple hours in the city; it might actually do you some good to clear your head,” Undyne insists.

“Really, Undyne-”

“I honestly want to hear how you made Mettaton, the science stuff and all. Can you spare a lunch?” I ask Alphys.

She bites at one of her nails and glances at her computer before sighing, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt t-  _ too _ much.”

“Yes!” Undyne says, clapping once. “I know the perfect place to go.”

***

I am amazed at how fast the day goes by: from listening to Alphys talk about Mettaton for two hours, which surprisingly enough, holds my interest, to Undyne dragging us to various stores that are mostly weapons-related. My thoughts drift to my brothers numerous times, and I hope the fact that a Load or a Reset hasn’t happened means Flowey’s keeping his distance.  _ Hopefully _ .

Despite how much more relaxed Alphys becomes, she still holds that consistent sense of self-doubt and anxiousness. I make sure to ask her lots of questions so she feels included, especially since Undyne dominates the spotlight. I feel the worst for Alphys when Undyne stops a pretty weak attempt at a robbery. Everyone in the store makes sure to cheer for their Captain of the Guard for her quick thinking. I doubt Alphys has ever had people cheer for her like that. It makes me wonder if she feels like she’s living in the shadow of her friend. Even though they both hold respectable titles, Undyne’s seems infinitely more important since you can see the action happening in front of you. For Alphys, all she can do is hope the people like whatever she cooks up in a dark lab.

At least I’m able to get a real, genuine laugh out of her when I ask, “Is there ever a day in which Undyne’s not beating somebody up?”

“I don’t think so,” Alphys responds, seeming at her most relaxed all day.

I get recognized by quite a few monsters, mainly because my coat is apparently so iconic now. They all ask when I’ll be on TV again and I just say soon, unsure of when I’ll be comfortable with that. I guess it won’t be so bad, but I really want Papyrus to get a spotlight.

I never get a chance to ask Alphys how she knows about anime, or why she's been telling Undyne that it's a part of human history. I guess I should find some time to meet with her alone someday.

We make it back to the lab at four, and Alphys immediately returns to her stressed state.

“O- okay, it was really fun hanging o- out with you guys. B- but I really have to get back to work,” she says.

“Aww, I’ve missed days of doing nothing with you. Stop working so much,” Undyne says, giving Alphys a noogie.

“E - eventually,” Alphys says, wriggling out of her grasp.

“We’ll see ya, girl,” Undyne says, giving her finger-guns and heading towards the exit.

“It was nice meeting you, Alphys. Best of luck with your new project,” I say, waving goodbye and following Undyne.

Alphys doesn’t respond, and I don’t even have to guess why, suddenly hoping I didn’t rub salt in a wound. I probably did.

Undyne takes a sharp left down to the dock where the River Person waits, making my heart skip a beat.

“You know my place,” Undyne says, hopping on the boat.

When the Person sees me, I spot that flash of a hidden smile, “Hello again.”

I faintly incline my head and sit on the bow. It’s only seconds before we’re at the dock closest to Undyne’s house.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s back to the usual grind,” Undyne says with a wink.

“You know, I’ll get off here, too,” I say, rising from my seat.

“Oh, you’re so socially fearful,” Undyne says, kicking the boat away from the land. She tosses the Person a gold coin. “Snowdin’s her place, and make her talk about her day! Making friends isn’t as hard as she thinks.”

I give her an “ _ Are you serious? _ ” expression, and she just waves as the boat drifts away.

Once Undyne’s out of sight, the Person says, “So… how was your day?”

“Just take me to Snowdin,” I mumble, looking away.

“Soon,” they whisper.

My head snaps in their direction, “ _ Excuse me _ ?”

“Do you mind if we… make a stop first?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

“Ah, well at least you’ll remember I asked nicely,” they say and the scenery around us suddenly changes. It’s subtle, but I notice the waterfalls are different to the right, and to the left… the only dock in sight is just a straight hallway, leading to a single white door.

“A certain someone has asked to meet with you, and I cannot deny their request. So if you could please... it will take all of a minute.”

My eyes glance to the rushing water over the side, fearful of whether it’s worth the risk to fight the Person, or to just let the current take me. I can’t swim, but maybe I can guide myself with magic?

“Stop searching for a way out. I swear on my SOUL that I am confident you will walk out of there.”

“ _ You’re _ confident, but are they?” I ask sharply.

“It’s up to you to decide how much you want to go home.”

My blood freezes at their tone, an implication that I will have a choice in there, but here, neither of us has a choice.

I rise, fighting to keep from shaking as I step off the boat and into the short hallway. I walk to the door and place a hand on the cool knob, looking back at the Person. That grin flashes in their hood and I feel even more uneasy.

_ Just get it over with. _

I open the door and walk into a hallway that leads to an empty, gray room. Only two steps in and the door slams shut behind me. I whip back and turn the knob, but it’s locked. 

Oh no. No. No. _No._ **No.**

I look back into the room and I swear my heart stops when I see a figure, clad in black. But it’s not just a figure, it’s a being. A monster. A monster with a face. A face that is broken and cracked, imprinted in a permanent scowl. I’ve never seen this particular face before, but I can eliminate the imperfections to see one I do know. It has haunted my dreams, but this is the clearest I’ve ever seen it, enough that I can decipher its owner. And I know my heart really does stop when I realize who I am staring at.

Doctor Wingdings Gaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, no dramatic fight from Sans' perspective... _yet_. My main reason is because this is Krista's story; however, I do plan on using more third person in Part 3 ;).
> 
> One thing I want to address that I feel like I should have explained weeks ago is that if you write questions in your comments, I will most likely not reply to them. My main reason is because they usually pertain to something that will be revealed in either the next or upcoming chapters. However, if something is asked that I know won't be explained in the story, I will respond. I'm saying this because I feel like it has been rude of me to leave you with your questions when you're probably expecting answers.   
> I truly appreciate every comment and I read them over many times simply because I'm astonished that strangers could enjoy reading and analyzing my story just as much as I love writing it. And even if you've only commented once, I thank you because it tells me you're invested in my story and you're willing to let me know your thoughts. (And even if you don't comment, I am grateful that you're reading!)
> 
> As a preview, I'll let you know that this next chapter hurt me more to write than anything I've done so far...


	29. Unforgivable

The doctor opens his mouth to say something, and I hold up a finger, refusing to hear his voice again. “ _ This _ isn’t real.  _ You  _ are dead. And  _ I  _ am leaving.”

I turn back and the door is gone, nothing but a blank, gray wall.

“I wish that was the case, but unfortunately, you are not going anywhere if you ignore me,” he says. I feel a twinge in my head at hearing his voice, feeling a rush of fear, but more importantly, rage.

“How disappointing. I was just about to destroy your precious machine once and for all,” I snarl, still facing away from him. No… this  _ cannot  _ be real.

“Stop acting like a child and look at me, we have matters to discuss,” he says coolly.

A laugh works its way up my throat, beginning as a stuttered breath before transforming into a hysterical screeching sound. It doesn’t sound like me at all, more like a dying girl’s final cry of anguish. I hide my face as I recover with shaky breaths, “You think you still hold the same position of power?”

“No, because if you shut up and  _ listen _ , you will realize the both of us are at risk,” he says calmly.

“Ha! ‘ _ Us _ ’? There is no ‘us,’ there has never been an ‘us’ and there never will be! You can't care any less whether I live or die! So what makes you think I’m stupid enough to listen to  _ you _ ?”

“I believe you are smart enough to understand when a threat is staring you in the face.”

“Yeah, and I’m looking right at him!”

“I am not the threat anymore. You have been manipulated, Krista.”

At that last word, I finally whip around and approach him, stopping just a few feet away to stare straight into his eye sockets, “Don’t you  _ dare  _ use my name like you think it’ll convince me that I mean anything to you. So what do you want, huh? To put on some grand display that you survived and now you’re ready to take everything I love? That you’re so clever for sending your little follower into  _ my house _ and making me think Chara was behind all this?” 

From this close, I realize just how...  _ different  _ he looks, like he’s aged five hundred years. Like he’s finally paying for his sins. I hide my shock by smirking when I give him a once-over, his shirt and pants are the darkest tones of gray and his once white lab coat is now black. “I love the get-up, black suits you.”

“You have been right the whole time, and I am warning you now to leave while you still can,” he says, unflinching.

“Oh great, then just bring the door back and I’ll gladly walk out,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“I cannot, but you have the power to find a way out, as long as you act quickly,” he says, and I realize his tone lacks his usual monotony; it’s just cool and calm.

“Well, as you can see,” I say, creating a spike and shooting it to where the door was. My magic bounces away with no effect and I dissipate it. “This is just like when you locked me in your little lab.”

“Why do you think the text was in red Determination Mono?”

“You can talk in De-”

My voice fades as I realize he’s been speaking in Wingdings this entire time. I take a step back, “What game are you playing?”

“This is not a game. I am not the one with the power anymore, so I suggest you figure out how to leave soon or you will never see your brothers again.”

I create a sword and hold it near his neck, not caring that he towers over me; with that comment, I am not afraid of him anymore. “How much do you know!?”

“Enough. I know that you lived with Asgore for a couple months. I know that you’ve created strong bonds with Subj-... Comic Sans and Papyrus. You have befriended the Captain of the Guard, and the Underground adores you.” I step back, but keep my threat clear. “It seems the time has been good to you. You’ve gotten stronger than you ever could have in the lab.”

“No thanks to you,” I snap, eliminating my sword.

“But that strength has led you to today’s unfortunate circumstances, and I truly mean this when I say I am sorry that this is how it will end for you.”

The gray room suddenly drops to black and Gaster sighs, stepping away from me.

A childish giggle echoes from above and Chara leaps out of the dark, landing in front of me. “Hi, Krista. Did you miss me?” she asks sweetly.

The cool anger I felt with Gaster spikes to panic when my attention turns to Chara. On instinct, my magic strengthens as I notice the wrongness of her, like she carries too much power.

“I know I’ve missed you! Honestly, while you’ve been having fun these past few months, things have gotten so  _ boring  _ around here after I finally got Gaster to submit to me. That’s why I hoped you liked my little message. Let me thank you in person for that Determination, it has helped spice things up again. Oh, and here, you can meet Gregan under nicer circumstances.”

The creature that had entered my room, with that permanent smile and the head in its hand appears.

“Gregan, you remember Krista, right? Thanks a million for volunteering, I was a little scared that Determination would destroy you when entering the world, but it didn’t!”

Gregan just waves, finally taking his hand off his right temple.

“So… how did that key appear?” I ask.

“We’ll get to that, don’t worry your pretty little head, but right now, I thought you’d like to know how Gaster got here, don’t you? Surprise, he’s not alive or dead, and neither is Gregan or me. Let me officially welcome you… to the Void.” She holds her arm out to the darkness, and other monsters appear. They are all various combinations of black and gray with only bits of white. The only one with color is Chara with her bright green and yellow sweater and her dark red eyes. I can’t help but look down at myself and feel some relief that my jacket is still a rich green. 

“It’s pretty creepy, isn’t it? But don’t worry! They all listen to me. I think I might have to thank Sans for pushing Gaster into the Core because it’s made things a heck of a lot easier around here,” Chara smirks and jumps near Gaster as if to fight him. He doesn’t flinch, but Chara smiles because he can’t do anything beyond not reacting.

“A lot of these guys were loyal assistants. There was actually considered to be a clique of ‘Gaster followers’ who praised his name and accomplishments as if he was the smartest creature alive. When they fell into the Core because he was so insistent that railings were ‘unnecessary’ and were erased from existence, they prattled on for years that he would save them. When he fell into his creation the same as they did, they realized he was not as wonderful as they once thought. It made them realize that he had  _ forgotten  _ them, and they were left to suffer in this dark. So now, they listen to me, because I gave them meaning and purpose.  _ I _ gave them a reason to hope. Right, friends?”

The lost souls cheer before chanting, “ _ Liberator _ .  _ Hero _ .  _ Queen _ .”

Chara points to me, “And have we finally made it?”

They scream with joy and my blood chills. The only one who remains silent is Gaster.

Chara turns back to me and the monsters disappear, leaving just her, Gaster, and me.

“So the key, yes that was quite a feat, but I had scraped just one final wisp of power from that Justice SOUL to do it. Gaster had the key with him when he fell, so all I had to do was send it back home.”

“A Justice SOUL?” I ask.

Chara smiles so broadly it makes my stomach turn, and she jumps up and down like a little kid. “Ooo, I want to tell her! I want to tell her! Do you think I should, Wingdings?”

Gaster just gives her a glare before looking at me, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it. “She won’t be able to handle it.”

“Aww, you’re too soft. I think she can! You’re a strong girl, Krista. That old guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Chara lazily waves a hand in his direction.

“What Justice SOUL?” is all I ask.

“Well, almost nine years ago, I was able to nab a kid with a Justice SOUL who’d wandered into the Underground through those secret caves Undyne mentioned. The poor little girl was so lost and confused, and she was able to find my door. She came in and… that was the last thing she ever knew.”

“What did you do to her?” I ask, my anger flaring.

“The better question is: what did I do  _ with  _ her?” Chara asks, giggling.

“Just say it,” I snap, hating whatever game she’s playing.

“Well… what happened in  _ your  _ life almost nine years ago?”

_ No _ . There is absolutely no way…

“You seem a little speechless, so let me tell you,” Chara says beginning to stroll, moving her hands as she speaks for emphasis. “Violet Hope Meadows dies on December eleventh from a  _ supposed  _ heart attack despite being very healthy at the young age of twenty-nine. This left Sheldon Meadows to take care of his two daughters, Krista and Mable. Sheldon’s grief and irresponsibility moved him to bury Violet in the middle of nowhere rather than letting the proper authorities take care of her. An autopsy would have proved that it wasn’t in fact a heart attack but a mysterious aneurysm that killed her. Sheldon didn’t tell his daughters where he buried their mother or a secret both parents were keeping from them because he knew it would bring them more pain than they could handle.”

Chara flashes me a smile, “The secret... was that Violet was pregnant with her third child, but it was too early to tell the gender. However, she was  _ confident  _ that it was going to be a boy.”

I try to focus on breathing, on reminding myself that this could all be a lie.

“That mysterious aneurysm was an experiment from below. You see… I’ve caught several SOULs over the years. I’ve tried to escape the Void using them, but they were all so weak, even when I had a Justice SOUL long before this other one. I’ve been able to manipulate monsters with them. I’ve channeled power into reserves whenever I want to mess with humans who’ve entered the Underground. I’ve even gained a sense of seeing the future with them. But in the end, none of them mattered when it came to achieving my  _ true  _ goal. So when I found this new Justice SOUL… I wondered if I could reach higher. Was it possible to affect anyone on the Surface? It seemed like a worthwhile test to me… and that’s how I found your family.”

_ Breathe, Krista, breathe. _

“What helped was that Violet had a natural inclination for magic, she didn’t exactly know it, but it helped me find her. I quickly realized I couldn’t manipulate her, no she was really strong, but I was able to…  _ twist _ her magic against her. I honestly didn’t think it’d kill her, I thought I could just change her personality to make her more… violent. Seriously, her optimism was sickening. So when she died, I turned to Sheldon, and damn, did I have a field day with him. Kindness SOULs really are the easiest to manipulate. He started going down a dark path when Violet died anyway, but that was just depression and probably eventual suicide. That would’ve left his poor daughters all alone, so why not keep him around?”

“You… killed my mom,” I whisper, my muscles so tense they’re beginning to tremble. 

“Yeah, so anyway, Sheldon did most of that stuff to you guys on his own, I just gave him a little  _ push  _ to be more violent. Only sometimes, I lost my grip on him, and he was actually like his old self for a few hours. I was only able to take full control of him twice. Guilty, in those two instances, it was all me. Would you like to know what those two instances were?”

“You…  _ destroyed  _ my family,” is all I can say, barely comprehending what I’m hearing.

“I knew you would,” Chara smirks, disregarding my words. “The first instance was when he whipped you because  _ damn _ , that kind of power feels  _ amazing _ . Unfortunately, I lost control of him after that and he actually helped Mable bandage you up. Can you believe it? Ah, you probably can because a six-year-old wouldn’t have been able to help you as great as Sheldon did. And the second time was when he took control of your SOUL. By then, I was running out of the Justice’s power, yeah she was a pretty strong girl, and I figured, why not have him kill Mable and you before I leave him? Then he would realize what he’d done and live the rest of his life in shame. Or he might have killed himself, which was probably the more likely outcome. I honestly did not expect you to kill him and run to the mountain. So I had fun with you during your first session, but I’ve honestly never had any use for you… until I thought about it.

“I’ve never had control of a Perseverance SOUL, and I’ve never had a SOUL that has actually used magic… and mastered it pretty well. Which means congratulations Krista, all your self-doubt can go away, because I’ve found a use for your pathetic existence. You… are our salvation. With your power… we can finally leave this place, and I will finally have the world.”

“Why?” is all I ask, fighting to stay on my feet. It’s all too much. It can’t be true. But how would she know so much about my family?

Her playful tone suddenly darkens, “Because  _ I  _ deserve it. I am sick of feeling nothing but emptiness. I am  _ sick _ of watching the happiness of others. Sure, Flowey’s been putting on a pretty good show over the years, but his Resets affect time here, which means waiting for the Determination human has taken  _ too long _ . Oh, I’ve seen their arrival, but I can’t see when it will happen or anything beyond that. That makes you the next best thing. Sure, it would be less…  _ messier  _ with the Determination human, but you’ll do.”

Her eyes flash a darker shade of red, and I’m suddenly knocked on my back, with her hand digging into the skin just above my heart. I realize she’s trying to take my SOUL, and I try to throw her off me, but she’s too strong as her legs pin my arms. All I can do is defend my SOUL from within as she digs deeper. 

“Come on, Krista. You died quietly yesterday, and you can do it again today. Think about it, you’ll be with your family forever. You should thank me for sending you all to an eternal home so soon. You might even see your baby brother now that you know about him, wouldn’t that be worth it?”

I scream at the blinding pain but focus on keeping my SOUL inside. She can’t have it. I’m not ready to die, and I sure as hell won’t let her destroy the world with  _ my  _ power. 

“I thought you said you deserved to die, so why don’t you want to now? Getting  _ selfish  _ are we? Don’t worry, even if Flowey Resets, you won’t come back. Because you’re now  _ mine _ . Oh and good job on controlling his Reset point, I’m very proud of how far you’ve come. You should be glad your power will help the world. Isn’t that what you wanted? To help people?”

“Not  _ your  _ way,” I gasp between waves of pain.

“That’s a shame because my way is going to happen  _ no matter what _ .”

She forms a jagged black sword, just barely on the verge of the darkest shade of red, and she plunges it into my chest. Or she tries to, but my magic forms a barrier between my skin and her blade. Damn, she is so,  _ so strong _ .

“Aww, are you really going to make me rip your SOUL out of your chest cavity? That’d be really messy, so please, just  _ obey _ . You’ve obeyed me many times before. In fact, would you like to know how much I loved whipping you? I felt  _ so much power _ , and you were just a worthless, meaningless creature. Props for surviving in the snow for as long as you did. I was actually hoping you would’ve died then and there. I  _ so _ wanted to do more to Mable without you in the way.”

I scream louder than I ever have before, finally believing that it is all true.  _ Chara _ has been my torturer all these years. She killed Mom. She killed Dad. And Chara. Killed.  _ Mable _ .

“Having second thoughts about what you said to Sans this morning? Does this change your mind? Think about it, you could have had your parents and other siblings if I hadn’t interfered. Do you still think all your suffering has been worth it? Just for a couple skeletons and a puppy? What if your life’s events could be reversed? Who would you choose? Or does your family not matter and you’re content with this ridiculous charade you call a life in the Underground?”

My magic surges with rage and I push her back, exploding a force of power that throws her across the darkness. I force myself to my knees, my whole body trembling and I glare at her, “If you want to leave this place so bad… then I will gladly end your miserable existence  _ right now _ .” 

Chara just laughs, already standing tall again, “Cute. I can’t wait to use that rage of yours. It really is hilarious to see a little kid get angry. You would know how fun it is to upset her, right Gaster?”

Gaster keeps his face blank; although, I’m sure he’s enjoying this just as much as Chara.

“But enough child’s play, I’m afraid your expiration date has been long overdue, and it’s time to salvage the only meaningful thing you have,” Chara says sweetly, sending vines of darkness up to pin me to the ground. I can’t move as she pounces on me again, trying to claw her way to my SOUL more viciously than before. I can’t fight my scream at the wicked, piercing pain trying to dig its way into me. The agony must go on for minutes as Chara taunts me, trying to convince me to give up. She digs at all my fears, doubts, and insecurities, feelings that  _ she  _ instilled in me. How could I have ever thought my dad  _ willingly _ changed as much as he did? It was barely him, it was always  _ her _ . 

I fight as much as I can, but I feel my magic beginning to reach its limits when a cool voice suddenly says, “Stop.”

Chara’s head whips in Gaster’s direction and she laughs, “Excuse me? Did you say something, pet?” 

“Stop,” he says, emotionless.

Chara giggles, “Aww, have you gone soft? I thought you loved watching this animal get tortured. I mean, you only threw her closer to the Barrier to watch her scream. What’s changed?”

“There are other ways that she could be useful,” Gaster simply says.

I can barely hear them as I try to focus on breathing. My vision fades in and out as tears stream down the sides of my head, and I feel my magic struggling to build itself back up.

“Oh? I’d love to hear your suggestions, but I already fail to see how they could be better than taking her power now.”

“She is moving the Reset points forward. This will bring us closer to the arrival of the Determination human. You have said yourself that it will be soon, and you’ve even seen her in a vision with them. Just let her force time forward so we can reach that point. If she becomes a nuisance, then kill her. But for now, let her do some work for us.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Chara says, although I’m sure she’s considered this. “How does that sound, Krista? Do you want to die now or later? Because don’t worry, I’m going to kill you eventually, but it would definitely help to do it in a physical body.”

Only a strangled gasp escapes me as she pushes against my throat to help herself up. “I like it. I think that’s the most you’ve spoken since you arrived here. See that’s what I’ve wanted, Gaster,  _ good ideas _ , and I know you have an abundance of them.”

Chara giggles and the vines around me disappear, “I’ll see you when everything falls into place. Until then, keep trying to ignore me, you’ll be much happier, and  _ I’ll _ be more productive. See you soon.”

She disappears and the black room brightens back to gray. I roll onto my side and try to force myself up, but I’m shaking so much that I collapse immediately.

“She wasn't lying, was she?” I ask weakly.

“No, she wasn't,” the scientist confirms.

A shuddered breath escapes me and I press my forehead into my arm, utterly defeated. Everything I thought I knew was a  _ lie _ . None of this was ever supposed to happen to me. I was  _ meant _ to live a normal, happy life, but all because  _ Chara _ was curious and bored, my life has been destroyed. Even then, she never intended for me to survive. I'm just the lucky one of the Meadows family who walked away, but her reach is going kill me eventually.

“I suggest you leave before she changes her mind,” Gaster says calmly.

I point a shaky finger in his direction, “Oh, I bet you  _ loved _ every second of that. The only thing you're sorry about is that you didn't do it first.”

I jump when I feel a hand grip my coat and pull me up to my feet. The movement makes me so dizzy, I almost pass out when I notice he's snapping his fingers in front of my face. He steps in front of me, keeping a glare locked on my eyes, “You can think anything you want about me, but right now, you need to  _ focus _ and leave this place. She does not have  _ constant _ control over it, but she can take over whenever she wants. There's the door, are you going to survive, Perseverant?”

His insistence stuns me, and I finally realize what he did.  _ Gaster saved my life. _

“Why are you helping me?” I ask numbly.

“If there is anyone in the Underground who can stop her... it's you. She will destroy everything and everyone if she takes the Determination human’s SOUL. You  _ cannot _ allow that. She will not be able to do anything to you until the human arrives. So in the meantime… keep fighting, Krista.” 

Then he disappears and I look around in surprise. Was he serious? I spot the door across from me and I slowly walk to it, my limbs trembling so much I have to pause a few times. I finally reach it and sigh when the knob turns, opening back to that short hallway. I step out and slam the door shut, collapsing to my knees.

I try to process everything I just learned, unsure of what freaks me out the most. The fact that overshadows everything finally hits me once my shock numbs: Chara murdered my entire family, and it was all just a fun little experiment to her. 

My blood pounds in my ears and I can barely see anything as blinding grief and rage wrack my body. I feel the scream building, and I don’t care that my throat already hurts. I scream as loud as I can, and tears flood my eyes as the truth finally sets in. I have been controlled and manipulated for the past  _ nine years _ by that  _ demon _ . My life has never mattered to those who have power, and I’m only still here because of dumb luck. I truly don’t matter, and my family never mattered to anyone either. Maybe we were never meant to exist, and all our early deaths are just the natural way of making up for that mistake.

My voice finally gives out and my shoulders slump in defeat. It hurts  _ so much _ , more mentally than physically, even though I’m shaking like a frightened fawn and blood begins to drip from my nose. How can I go back to believing my life has worth after learning this? Mom said everything happens for a reason, but what valid reason exists that justifies her pointless death? I feel a pinch in my head when I remember the extra fact: I was going to have a baby brother. I don’t doubt it; Mom had very good intuition. She knew Mable and I were going to be girls. It’s what she always wanted: two girls and two boys, in that order. And  _ Chara  _ took that all away from us.

“Tra la la. Look who survived,” the River Person says brightly.

I don’t move; my eyes remain fixated on the ground as my blood stains the dark blue stone.

I hear them sigh and I jump when their voice changes to something deep and masculine, “She’s relentless, isn’t she?” 

I look up and leap back to see their hood is off, revealing that skeleton who looked so much like Sans in the photo album. In person, he looks even less like Sans than he did in the picture. He’s most certainly taller, and his head is narrower. Both of his eyes glow a bright shamrock green.

“I’m sorry I have been so mysterious, but she’s had a hold on me for decades. You don’t realize it, but you just set me free from her. That’s a debt I can never repay you for.”

Thank God he  _ sounds  _ nothing like Sans too, because I’m just about to punch him in the face out of the sheer need to make someone else hurt today. But I don’t, instead, I push myself up to my feet, intending to walk to the boat when I trip only after a couple steps. He catches my shoulders, and I feel the warmth of healing magic caress my throat.

Sudden anger blinds me and I shove him away, “Don’t you  _ dare  _ use your magic on me!”

“Sorry, I’m a healer; it’s kind of my thing. I understand that you’re overwhelmed right now, but you’re going to pass out if  _ someone  _ doesn’t heal you soon,” he says.

I sigh and lean my body against the right wall, slowly sliding down to a sitting position. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that the white door disappeared.

“Do you want me to take you home?” the skeleton asks softly.

“I can’t face them right now,” I murmur, covering my eyes. I think I just might, in fact, pass out.

He carefully sits across from me, and I hold my hand out. He  _ could  _ be lying, but I’d rather be alert if he throws me back to Chara than half dead. The skeleton gently wraps a gloved hand around my frozen one and his magic cautiously travels back to my throat. It’s similar to the boys’, but it feels far more advanced, as if he knows everything that needs to be healed before he even summons his magic. I hear him suck in a sharp breath when he reaches where Chara attacked my SOUL.

“Damn, she really cut into you. I can’t believe Wing let it go for that long,” he says.

I drop my left hand from my eyes and raise an eyebrow, “What?”

“While Chara wanted your SOUL today, she honestly didn’t care if she had to wait longer. She knows it’s more beneficial to let you move the Reset points forward, but she wanted to see if Wing, er, Gaster would care. Her attempt on your life was just a test to see how he would react. In her eyes, he failed because she wanted him to do nothing. In my eyes, he passed because he’s still fighting her.”

“And how did you see all that?” I ask.

“I’ve been her ‘outside man’ for decades so naturally, I need to know what everyone is doing. When I think of a person, I can see the general basis of what they’re doing during the day. Chara granted me that power when she first caught me. That power has helped her target different monsters over the years. She can see the outside on her own, but she can only focus on a few people at a time. I can handle far more since I’m always out here. So, since you’re from the outside, I can see what’s happening when you’re in there. However, when you fought back, I lost sight of you.”

“And how do I not know Chara’s listening to this right now? How can I trust anything you say?” I ask numbly as he lets go of my hand. I feel immensely better, and I wipe the dried blood off my nose. However, I’m not ready to express my gratitude just yet.

“If the door was still here, then yes, I’d be nervous, but she’s not omniscient. As someone who’s worked for her for decades, I know the tells when she’s around.”

“Then how do I not know you’re just trying to gain my trust to help yourself? How do I not know you want to take my SOUL, too?”

He takes off the glove on his left hand and reveals his palm, the sight making me catch my breath. An intricate red  _ X _ is branded into the center of the bone that composes his palm, a palm of bone just like Gaster’s before he created Sans and Papyrus.

I raise my eyes to his and he stares at me, as if to say he’d never lie. “This means that I was once the property of the most powerful wizard in history: King Xanvalus Curonius. He was the Determination wizard, and I was just one of his many slaves. I was luckier than others because of my healing abilities, but that doesn’t mean I got away unscathed. He  _ despised  _ skeletons, said we were unnatural creations that didn’t deserve to live. One night, I was able to slip past his magic defenses; I retreated underground long before the War had even ended. When I learned that all of monsterkind was banished down here, I was ashamed of my cowardice, especially when I learned that all the skeletons were murdered. So I hid my identity, pretending to be a humble, soft-spoken river person. 

“When I learned that Wingdings had survived… it took everything in my power not to reveal myself. He was my brother… but I had failed him by abandoning him and the others to the War. I couldn’t face him again. It was only when he entered the Void did Chara force me to meet him. And let’s just say she made sure it wasn’t a happy reunion. My point is that I have been a slave in some way for my entire life, and you just set me free from one form of bondage. There’s no way I could take your SOUL, and in my eyes, I’m not even worthy of sitting in your presence right now.”

I’d roll my eyes at that last sentence if he hadn’t said it like he was speaking from his SOUL. “So… the voice you’ve used as the River Person is a different font?” is all I can ask.

“Yes, it’s Determination Mono. Wing was really good at making his voice sound the same in his own dialect and in Mono, but I’m not. In the end, it was for the best.”

“So… what’s your font? Or I guess it’s your name?”

He just barely smiles, “Times New Roman, but I’ve always gone by Roman for short.”

“I guess you don’t need my name,” I shrug.

“Can I call you Carme? That’s your font, after all,” he lightly jokes.

“Not a chance,” I say, rising to my feet. Roman follows my lead and the discussion about fonts reminds me of something. “When I was in there, Gaster only spoke in Wingdings, and he implied that he couldn’t speak in Determination Mono anymore. Why would that be the case?”

“He lost most of his power when he entered the Void, so much that he can’t even hold a seemingly physical form like Chara can. If you would’ve tried to attack him, your sword would’ve cut through him no more than it could cut through a ghost.”

“But…” I think of when he pulled me to my feet and I tell Roman about it.

His eyes widen, “I can’t imagine how much strength he must’ve gathered in order to do that. In that state, if he still had a physical body, he would have dusted. Did he disappear?”

“Yeah.”

Roman sighs, “Chara’s going to be disappointed when she realizes she can’t taunt him for a few months. She may have the greatest amount of reign over the Void, but even she has some restrictions.”

“What exactly is the Void?” I ask.

“A side effect of the Barrier’s creation, a dark hell intended for SOULs who die under… special circumstances. Wing didn’t realize the energy he formulated the Core into was linked to that, which is why so many of those souls are in there. Chara entered it first, which is why she has so much power, although it may also be because she’s human.”

“That’s not  _ the  _ Chara that the king and queen raised, is it?”

Roman sighs, “Not entirely, just the darkest parts of her SOUL that refuse to die, and she will not stop until her wishes are fulfilled. The real child had suffered so much before she entered the Underground that her hatred took root in the depths of her SOUL. Prince Asriel made a mistake to take her to the Surface... because her joy died there, and he brought back her hatred.”

“There’s no way to stop her, is there?” I ask, remembering my uselessness.

Roman smirks, “Not for me, but there is for  _ you _ .” He steps onto his boat and waves me forward. “Mind if I show you something?”

“As long as it doesn’t try to kill me.”

“I swear on my SOUL that I am  _ certain  _ you will survive this,” he says, raising his hand.

I smirk and climb into the boat, realizing that his words bother me. “What makes you think there’s a way that  _ I  _ can stop her?”

Roman raises an eye socket at me, “Did you ever think there’s a reason you survived? That it wasn’t luck or chance or fate, but it was for an  _ actual purpose _ , one beyond anyone’s control.”

“I doubt that,” I scoff.

“Think about it. Even if you  _ want  _ to think your brothers would be fine without you, the  _ truth  _ is that they wouldn’t be doing as great as they are  _ with  _ you. Your life has a purpose, and there’s something only you have that no one can do.” I raise an eyebrow, “It’s your  _ perseverance _ . Scholars have always believed that only  _ Determination  _ can defeat Determination, but that’s not true. I truly believe that Perseverants are more powerful, and you’re going to prove it to the world when you keep the red SOUL out of Chara’s hands. If you didn’t exist or if you had died all those years ago, then there would be no hope for us. All our lives would solely be in the hands of the Determination human. I don’t know about you, but those odds  _ terrified  _ me when Chara told me she had foreseen their arrival decades ago. The minute they arrive is the minute she’s going to try to work away at them. It will be subtle, but if they’re not strong enough, they will fall to her whispers. With you here, I know Chara doesn’t have a chance.”

I shrug, “I wouldn’t put that much faith in me.”

Roman chuckles, “It’s no pressure because trust me, you won’t even feel it when the time comes; you’ll just act.”

He turns the boat to the left and we enter a cavern glowing brightly with purple Ceiling Stars. Gems embedded in the stone wall glow with various colors, and I realize they’re all of five colors: cyan, green, dark blue, orange, and yellow. There is only one red gem and one purple on opposite sides of the half-circle wall.

“These gems record the number of humans who have entered the Underground, and as you can see, their SOUL traits. The Ceiling Stars declare what is currently the most powerful human SOUL in the Underground. I can bet you my own SOUL that these stars will remain purple when the Determination falls,” Roman says.

“Why are you so confident that I’m strong enough to defeat Chara? Someone who’s been planning for years and has the power of the entire Void at her disposal?”

“Because I’ve seen what Perseverants can do, and when they want something enough, Determination doesn’t matter. The red SOUL always wants something out of curiosity, but the purple SOUL will want something out of  _ necessity _ .”

I roll my eyes, “Well then you clearly don’t know me because my curiosity is very influential.”

“Because it tells you when you  _ need  _ to know something. Determinations don’t care about the results; they just want to know in order to satiate their egos before moving on. They’re determined to discover because they know they can, and they will always get what they want when they’re faced with weak opposition. Perseverants don’t fight for anything out of curiosity; they fight because they believe their actions will lead to a positive outcome. Yes, I’ve seen corrupted Perseverants, King Xanvalus’ closest confidant was the Perseverant wizard who served him loyally. But the ones who opposed him… they inflicted immense damage on his armies. They freed slaves and took back land. Yes, they lost in the end, but that doesn’t mean you will meet the same fate.”

“Did you ever think this was too much to ask of me?” I say, wondering how he could  _ possibly  _ believe I’m anything like those legendary warriors. 

“No, because I know you’ll fight when you realize just how much is at stake. And you won’t know it, but you’ll become powerful enough to break the Barrier when the time comes.”

I scoff, “You’re insane.”

“Or intuitive, I have a way of reading people’s futures. I don’t see anything, but I sense… emotions. It’s been called the healer’s curse; I can get fragments when I heal people.”

I tense and jump up to grab the collar of his robe, “So you were doing it for your own gain!”

“No, you really would have passed out if I didn’t do anything. It’s just a side effect, and I’m telling you that everything will be okay. It will be a struggle, but you  _ will  _ be strong enough to overcome Chara’s power.”

I let go of his robe and sit back down, scowling. “Stop telling me I have so much strength. If you didn’t notice, Chara almost killed me today, Flowey  _ did  _ kill me yesterday, Gaster tortured me for months, and I guess I can now say that almost everything my father did was Chara, too, who tormented me for  _ years _ . The little power I have has never mattered when I needed it to.”

“Which is why it will in the future. Stop doubting yourself and your power will surprise you,” Roman simply says.

I roll my eyes, “I’d like to go home now; you’re not convincing me of anything.”

Roman smirks, “I didn’t think I could, but I thought I’d give my opinion. From a former prisoner to another, you’re a lot stronger and braver than I’ve ever been.”

I raise an eyebrow and his eyes glow bright green as the boat starts moving. I can’t tell if that’s supposed to signify his mood or that he’s using his magic. After a minute, I finally calm down enough to ask, “So what’s the significance of skeleton glowy eye colors?”

“When we are little, we can glow every color. Each one signifies either an emotion or a type of power. It’s usually an emotion when we’re very young. As we get older and learn our magic, a defined power takes root and it becomes our permanent color. We can still use the functions of just about every color, but we’re best at the one defined by our eyes. It takes quite a few years for all our magic to become our color, but it happens eventually.”

“What do the different colors represent?”

“There are only six: green is for healing, blue freezes people in place, purple confuses your opponent, orange is defense, yellow poisons opponents, and red causes instant death with one touch. The most common are green and blue with orange and purple following. I’ve only seen four with consistent yellow and just one with red. Trust me; even I was terrified around him.”

Sans has blue for sure, and Papyrus doesn’t glow too often, not even when I’ve seen him spar with Undyne. But the few times I have seen have always been orange, usually when he’s really happy about something. It’s no wonder blue and orange are their favorite colors, it’s like how purple and green were Mable’s and mine. They’re part of who we are.

Roman puts his hood back on as the air chills and says, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about my identity. I mean, I guess you could tell Sans, but I don’t want the king to know about me. I’d rather be forgotten than branded a coward, which I know is a cowardly thing for me to say.”

“I won’t tell Asgore,” is all I say as we reach Snowdin’s only dock.

I step off the boat, but pause and turn back, “Thank you… for healing me, and for being honest.”

Roman bows, “Thank you for freeing me. If you ever need my assistance, just send a ripple through the current; I’ll know it’s you.”

He leaves and I turn back to the path to see Sans standing at the end with Cody. I reach him and he smiles broadly, “Well look who gained the courage to travel with the River Person, or did Undyne force you on the boat?”

As much as I want to tell him all that happened, I smile, so relieved that he's safe and even happier that he's in a good mood. “Undyne kicked the boat off the dock before I could jump onto land.”

“It seems you two have reached a compromise, though. What was with the bow? Did you boggle their mind with a couple magic tricks? Or better yet, did you show off your dance moves?”

I laugh and pick Cody up, “It’s actually a crazier story than that.”

“Well, I’d love to hear it after Papyrus tells his. Apparently he made a friend today, but he wouldn’t tell me any more unless you were here.”

“Oh? And how was your day? Did you have to use any weed killer?”

Sans laughs, “Not a weed in sight. I think he learned his lesson ‘yesterday.’”

“Let’s hope he’s smart enough to remember to keep his distance.”

“One can only hope,” Sans says, opening the door to our house.

The air smells like pasta sauce and Papyrus sets plates full of spaghetti on the table. Undyne hasn’t taught him the best tricks since she’s all about big, bold actions rather than calm measuring and  _ actual cooking _ . For instance, Papyrus thought it was okay to disregard measuring ingredients when making cookies, which led to them crumbling and tasting like flour. I gave Undyne a piece of my mind and she just laughed, saying she would do it “my way” if I actually knew how to cook. She shut up real fast when I made the best damn strawberry cake she had ever tasted in her life. So I’ve been working with my brother to prepare for his show with Mettaton, and I honestly think Papyrus will be able to outdo the star himself at the rate he’s going.

“Ah! Perfect timing!” Papyrus exclaims, taking off a chef’s hat Sans bought for him. I put Cody on the ground and he runs into the kitchen to sit by the stove, staring at the pot of pasta above him.

“So who’s this friend you met?” Sans asks.

Papyrus jumps with excitement, “Well, I actually invited him to dinner, if that’s okay.”

“I guess it’s a little late now,” I say, noticing a fourth plate on the counter next to the stove.

“Aww, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Sans says as someone suddenly knocks on the door.

“Oh! That’s probably him!” Papyrus says, taking off his blue checkered apron and opening the door.

“Twenty G says it’s Mettaton,” Sans whispers.

I roll my entire head with my eyes as if his guess is insane, and Papyrus opens the door to reveal the person.

“Howdy! I hope I’m not late!” Flowey says.


	30. The Agony We Must Endure

“You're actually right on time!” Papyrus says, opening the door wider for the flower to enter. Flowey pops up just inside the door and gives me the smuggest smirk I’ve ever seen.

I say without even thinking, “I’m not dealing with this right now.” 

“What?” Papyrus asks.

“Papyrus, I love you, and there are a lot of things I will explain later, but right now, don’t question it,” I say.

“Are you okay? You look a little…  _ pale _ ,” Flowey says, fighting a smile. I smirk back, ignoring just how much power he had the last time I saw him. After everything I’ve gone through today, I  _ refuse  _ to let it end with my death.

“Get out,” I snap.

Flowey’s eyes widen with fake surprise, “What? I’m just here to have dinner with my friend.” 

I point to the frozen ground beyond our doorstep, “Get out of my house  _ right now _ , or you die.”

“Krista,” Papyrus says and I hear Sans grab his arm.

“We know this guy; he’s bad news,” Sans says in Wingdings.

Flowey’s smile drops and his eyes dart between the boys, dumbfounded by Sans’ use of the strange language.

“He doesn’t seem bad,” Papyrus responds in the same font, at least he’s following Sans’ lead.

“And that’s how he sneaks in to kill you,” Sans says.

Flowey shakes his head as if it will help him ignore the boys and he turns his attention back to me. “There’s something different about you. Care to explain how your day went?”

I form a sword and point it at his face, “You say one more thing and your head’s coming off.”

The flower finally obeys and ducks underground, popping back up on the path beyond.

“I’ll let you have this round… but only because you’ve got some explaining to do,” Flowey says with a wink, disappearing under the snow in the dim light of the Ceiling Stars.

I slam the door shut and turn around to face the boys, “We have a lot to discuss.”

“I’ll say! What is going on?” Papyrus asks, pulling his arm out of Sans’ grasp. “How do you know Flowey? Why is he so bad? And why have you guys been keeping things from me?”

“We’ve just been trying to protect you-” I try to say.

“Protect me? When he could have killed me? Me not knowing about him almost got us all killed if he’s as bad as you say he is. And I’m just going to say it: I know you’ve been keeping other secrets from me. Krista, I’ve always known that you came from the same place that we did, but since I was never too sure what it was, I didn’t say anything. And Sans… I know you remember our past. I’ve wanted to know for the past couple months, but I trusted that you were keeping it to yourself for a good reason. But now I know there’s nothing good in keeping secrets. So please, can you both explain everything to me? I’m your  _ brother _ , and yet why does it feel like the dog knows more than I do? Do you not trust me? Do you think I can’t handle it? We are a family, and if something is bothering one of us then we should all know about it to work through the problem together!”

I take a deep breath in the silence that follows, afraid of how Papyrus will react if we tell him everything. But then again… he  _ deserves  _ to know. If he wasn’t suspicious, then I’d be willing to keep the secrets for as long as possible. But since he already has pieces of information… it would be a crime to keep everything from him.

“You’re right. You deserve to know,” I tell him. Sans looks at me, his eyes slightly panicked as if doing this will destroy Papyrus. But I don’t think it will. “ _ Everything _ .”

I walk over to the TV stand and sit on the ground, slightly leaning against the makeshift shelf. I motion for the boys to sit on the couch and they listen. “Sans, I think you should go first,” I say as Cody walks over and plops down next to me. It makes me feel like we’re truly having our first “family meeting.”

I definitely see the struggle in Sans, the want to keep the truth to himself, but slowly, he explains their lives in the lab and the scientist who tormented them. Then, without pause, he explains everything that has happened with Flowey. All the details, both ones I know and ones I don’t, are laid out. Sans keeps his cool, but I see the emotions rising on several occasions, emotions that we all feel because most of our lives have been spent in dark prisons. Papyrus never interrupts, even when I see the questions sparking in his eye sockets.

The only question he asks when Sans is finished speaking is, “What made you think it was okay to keep all that from me?”

“I just… I wanted you to be happy, and you didn’t deserve to carry that kind of pain,” Sans says.

“If I lived it, then I can take it,” Papyrus says confidently. “I know you both want to protect me, but no matter what is thrown my way, I know I can always stay optimistic. I honestly don’t remember our time in the lab or what Gaster did to us… but thank you for telling me. I now know where I came from, and it tells me just how far we’ve come.”

Sans inclines his head to me, a signal that it’s my turn. I sigh, “Let me start with everything I once knew… and then tell you what changed today.”

I go through the key events in my life on the Surface, hesitating to explain them as they once were now that I know the truth, but I push through it. I tell them about my time in the lab, my knowledge of Chara, and my experiences with Flowey, knowing neither of them care that some of our stories overlap. I tell Papyrus about my ability to control Reset points and how Sans and I remember. He seems only a little upset that he can’t remember, but I can tell he’s glad that it’s not just one of us who’s forced to remember alone. 

All that I tell them leads up to today and how my perspective has changed. Putting the disgusting truth into words and feeling the weight of their reality cuts me deeper with every sentence, but I force myself through it. The sheer horror on my brothers’ faces makes my heart ache, and I can tell they’re resisting the urge to comfort me as I hold up a finger to keep them back. If I accept their comfort now, I am certain I’ll break down all over again for who knows how long.

“Many of my father’s actions were his alone… but Chara pushed him over the edge. If… if it wasn’t for her… I wouldn’t be here. My whole family would have lived, and I would have never entered the Underground. It makes me feel like being here is a mistake, that I should have died much earlier or avoided this altogether. It definitely doesn’t make me feel worthy of being your sister, since it’s only because of those specific circumstances that brought us together.”

“You know what I think?” Papyrus asks after a moment of silence. “I think that we would have still found each other in some way. Maybe not like this, but maybe after the Barrier is broken or maybe even longer after that. But no matter what, I just  _ know _ that we would have found each other.”

I give him a half-smile, unsure of how true that could have been.

“Why didn’t you kill the River Person?” Sans suddenly asks.

“What?” I say.

“Why didn’t you kill them for throwing you to Chara and almost dying from her?”

I sigh, “There are two factors that I still haven’t told you, and don’t freak out.” Sans rolls his eyes as if he knows that’ll be nearly impossible. “One: Gaster is still…  _ technically  _ alive and even crazier… he saved me.”

Sans jumps up from the couch, his posture rigid as he stares me down. “You’re serious?”

“Do you think that’s something I’d make up for laughs?”

He slowly sits back down as I explain what happened. To anyone else, Gaster’s mannerisms towards me would’ve just barely been a little less insulting than Chara’s. But as someone who’s used to being treated as a nameless test subject; I’d say he was acting like a completely different person. I don’t know if time in the Void humbled him or if he figured I’m the more reasonable of two insufferable humans, but his actions were practically heroic by his standards.

Sans seems to be in denial of Gaster’s actions, while Papyrus has a glimmer of pride in his eyes, as if he knew the scientist could do it all along.

“Two: the River Person is actually a skeleton who was around during the War.”

Both of the boys stand up at that. “What?” Papyrus asks.

“His name is Times New Roman, but he goes by Roman.” I tell them the little that I know about him, emphasizing that he wants his identity to remain a secret. 

“So he was working for Chara all that time, and you… freed him?” Sans asks.

I shrug, “I don’t know how it happened; all I did was throw Chara ten feet away from me.”

“There must have been some sort of magic connection,” Papyrus says.

“I dunno,” I say, standing up to stretch my sore back. I walk into the kitchen to check the time on the stove and my throat tightens at the time: 9:30. We’ve been talking for three and a half hours? I knew we had a lot to discuss, but I didn’t think there was so much we were keeping from Papyrus that it would take that long to explain. 

The spaghetti has been long forgotten, and it sits stone cold on the plates Papyrus had put on the table.

“Gee, Papyrus, sorry we forgot about dinner,” I say, suddenly wishing we had a microwave, but there really isn’t any space for one in our tiny kitchen.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Our discussion was far more important than keeping the food warm.”

Sans sits at his usual spot at the table and starts munching on the cold pasta, not a care in the world. “It’s still one of the best meals I’ve ever had,” he says, a light tone working its way back into his voice.

It makes me realize how exhausted we all are from the conversation. It was so much, to lay out our lives and relive the countless horrors. But they’re part of who we are, and deep down, I’m glad that Papyrus isn’t left out anymore. Sure, I’m terrified of what this knowledge will do to him and even more of what it will motivate Flowey to do. But for now… it feels good to have everyone on the same page.

I slide into my seat and start to cut up my own plate of cold pasta, realizing just how hungry I am. Papyrus follows suit, his eyes slightly vacant as I’m sure he’s thinking over everything he just learned.

The silence that starts to hang in the air makes me feel uneasy, and I try to find some way back to our usual, light-hearted conversations.

“If there’s one last secret I can think of to tell you guys… it’s my middle name. Anyone want to guess what it is?” I ask.

Sans chuckles and puts down his fork to tap his chin, “Does it have anything to do with color or flowers?”

“Nope,” I say.

“Have I heard the name before or is it so bizarre that I’d never guess?”

“It’s considerably normal for Surface standards,” I say, raising an eyebrow as if I expect him to know all there is about the common names of my home.

He snaps his fingers, “It’s Pear, isn’t it?”

I bust out laughing and Papyrus rolls his head in annoyance. “There is no way anyone would think Krista Pear is a good name,” he says.

“Trust me, there are people with much stranger names than that,” I say.

“I’d like to think it’s your font, but I doubt your parents knew about that,” Papyrus says.

“Sorry bud, we can’t see words like you guys.”

“I give up,” Sans says, waving a glove in surrender.

“Same here,” Papyrus says.

“It’s Isabel,” I say, giving them a winning smile as if it was voted the best name to ever exist.

“Isabel,” Papyrus says, sounding out the word. “Krista Isabel Meadows. Wow, it’s got a nice ring to it.”

“That makes your initials KIM. Can we call you that? It’s the easiest to say,” Sans says, raising an eye socket with a dumb grin.

“I’ll assign you three weeks of washing dishes if you do,” I say, challenging him.

“Aww, come on,” he whines.

“Just because  _ you  _ have a simple name doesn’t mean we all have to have one, lazybones,” I say, picking up my fairly clean plate.

“Can I do it for just one day?” he asks and I realize what’s happening. Sans barely even understands what he’s saying when he gets this tired, and today really has been  _ exhausting _ .

“Papyrus, I think you might have to tuck him into bed,” I say, patting his shoulder as I take my plate into the kitchen.

“You bet,” Papyrus smirks, pulling Sans out of his chair and hauling him up to his room.

Papyrus is back only a minute later, slightly smiling, “Out like a light.”

“Good, I can’t stand him when he gets like that. It’s like watching a kid trying to decide what candy he wants before realizing an hour later that he wants everything.”

“Heh, it’s exhausting just watching him try to form a coherent sentence,” my brother says, passing plates to me to wash in the sink. We’re quiet for a while until he finally says, “You know... I’d think you’d be in an even worse condition, considering all that you went through today.”

I sigh, realizing I’m feeling that heavy ache in my eyes that nicely asks for sleep before my vision starts tunneling. “No, I’m feeling it… but there’s something I need to do first.”

“What?”

“I want to save the Reset point, that way you’ll remember all this. But I want you to be entirely sure first because if I leave it, there’s a chance Flowey will Reset and you’ll forget.”

Papyrus only considers it for a second before confidently nodding. “Yes, I want to remember. I know you probably don’t think I can handle it because I’m always looking on the bright side, but I  _ know  _ I can. In fact, knowing all that bad stuff makes me even more confident because look how far we’ve come, and it gives me hope for all the great things we will do in the future.”

“You know you really are a ray of sunshine. When we get to the Surface, you probably won’t even notice the sun because you’re just as bright,” I say, knowing my words would probably make a human roll their eyes, but to someone who’s only heard about the beauty of the sun, I’d like to think it means a lot.

He smiles, “Then can I guide your way to the Reset menu?”

“I’d be honored,” I say, finishing the last dish and grabbing my coat.

Cody’s already passed out on the couch, and I turn off the main lights, leaving on only the studio-like ones above the fireplace. I lock the house and give Papyrus the key as we walk to the other end of town, not even bothering to take the undersnow tunnels.

It’s nice to walk with him for once, especially since he now knows as much as Sans does.

“I feel really bad about keeping you in the dark, and I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner,” I say.

“I understand why you kept it to yourselves, and maybe I should have been more outspoken about it. But now that we all know everything, don’t you think life will be a bit easier?”

“Well it’s definitely not any less painful... but I guess this is better. I know I’d rather understand everything than have the truth kept from me.”

“I think knowing doesn’t change anything about our lives; it only gives me more confidence to face the future.”

“And that’s why I’m sorry we kept it from you. We were so afraid of how you’d react that we didn’t consider the person you’ve become: someone who won’t allow darkness to drag him down.”

“I’m not immune to pain, but thanks for seeing that strength in me,” he says as we reach the Save star.

“It’s here,” I say, touching the star and the menu pops up. “So you can’t see this?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

“Well at least you’ll remember,” I say, hitting  _ Persevere  _ and dropping from the use of so much power; it doesn’t help that I’m so tired.

“Krista, are you okay?” Papyrus asks, grabbing my shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah, this happens every time. It takes a lot of power out of me.”

“You don’t say?” Flowey yells to our left. On instinct, I’m back on my feet and pointing a sword at him. He laughs, “Well isn’t that nice to know.”

“What do you want?” Papyrus asks, summoning two bone bullets.

“I really can’t believe they told you, Papyrus; we could have been  _ such great  _ friends. But your sister’s hell-bent on ruining all my fun. So… I say it’s about time I ruin  _ her  _ fun.”

I shove Papyrus back as Flowey tries to catch him with vines, effectively getting caught myself and Flowey throws me behind him. I hit the frozen ground and roll a few times, stopping when my back slams against one of the bridge posts.

“Let’s take this somewhere more…  _ quiet _ ,” Flowey says, grabbing me and pulling me underground with him. In an instant, we’re in the middle of the silent woods, and Flowey throws me against a tree.

“Now… you’ve made quite a mess of things recently. Since you remember, I can’t have fun with you, and you have both of your brothers’ insufferable loyalties. Do you realize just how much fun I could’ve had with you three? The possibilities would have entertained me for years. But no, because of  _ you _ , I have to share this world with somebody.  _ And that pisses me off _ .”

“I guess you should have enjoyed your power while you had it,” I say, rubbing the back of my head, knowing my comment will probably set him off.

Flowey just smiles, “Oh don’t worry… you’re still at  _ my  _ mercy,” he says, gathering me in vines and shooting them up a few stories above the ground. He flips me upside-down and I feel a slight sense of panic kick in. I’m not dying like this again. 

With a slash of magic, I cut myself out of the vines and Flowey catches me. “Whoops, we wouldn’t want you to  _ fall  _ to your death now would we? That’d be really messy.”

“Less messy than bleeding to death?” I snap back.

“Oh, you’re right, I guess we’ll see what happens,” he says, letting me go.

I form a platform to catch myself before I fall for too long, and Flowey shoves me off with a vine. “No, no, let’s see just how much  _ nicer  _ death from this height will be.”

I catch myself again, feeling a deep ache in my SOUL asking me to take a break. Damn it, I don’t know if I can last long like this.

I see Flowey move to attack me again and I jump to a new platform, working my way back down to the forest floor. Every time I hit a new one, I feel a shockwave inside me, another drain on my magic. Roman might have healed me, but he can't replenish my magic, which means I'm still just barely recovered from Chara’s attack. What’s worse is that it’s hard to see Flowey with how faint the Ceiling Stars are. He must’ve brought me to an area where their light is almost non-existent at night.

Amazingly enough, I make it to the ground, but Flowey sends a “friendliness pellet” at me so fast I don’t even notice the shadow it creates before it slams into my back. I’m thrown forward and Flowey smacks me in the face with a vine, making blood spray from my nose. I push myself up and get hit with another pellet of magic, right into one of his vines and he catches me by the throat.

“Hee-hee, you should’ve stayed home tonight. Now that you’ve taken my Reset point, I’m gonna make sure you suffer under the newest Save.”

He throws me on the ground and my head smacks against a chunk of ice hidden under the snow. I feel a spike of pain and touch the back of my head to feel warm blood blooming. I groan and force myself up, my eyes widening when he’s nowhere in sight. Only a second later, he bursts out of the ground and towers over me, laughing.

“ _ Oh, I’ve wanted to do this for so long _ ,” he says in a voice deeper than I’ve ever heard from him.

I’m so disoriented that I don’t see the vine coming until it pierces straight through my heart. I gasp and stare forward, my brain struggling to process the fact that this means I’m going to die.

“You want know the worst part about remembering everything? It’s that the sensation of death will haunt you for the rest of your life,” Flowey whispers in my ear.

The world blacks out and my eyes immediately snap open back to the silent forest. 

“Confused?” Flowey asks behind me.

I whip around, sending a pounding pain to the back of my head, and I feel the blood trickle through my hair.

“No,” I reply, forcing myself to my feet.

I died, and he Loaded his Save; that’s where he went when he disappeared, to take over this little piece of time. 

“Well I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he says catching me and sending my body hundreds of feet up. He flips me upside-down and disappears underground for a few seconds, probably to Save, before reappearing.

“You love this little trick, don’t you?” I ask calmly, shoving down my panic.

“It’s only natural to take advantage of such an obvious weakness. I haven’t had fun with a human in a long time.”

He slices my neck wide open and drops me. My heart surges with fear and I try to make a platform, but my magic flickers in protest, as if I’ll kill myself if I try too hard. I hit the ground flat on my back and feel all the air leave me before the world darkens.

“Ouch, maybe that  _ was  _ messier than simply slicing your neck,” Flowey says as I’m thrown back to where he Saved. “But it doesn’t matter; I need to get my aggression out.”

He slams me against the closest tree before throwing me into another one, and another one, and another one. He makes sure to wrap his vines around my legs so the rest of my body takes the full impact. Again and again and again. I can’t reach my magic, not as I can barely see what’s going on and my brain is blinded by constant pain.

I think my bones break and teeth get knocked out. I think I die multiple times. But all I feel is endless pain attacking me in every form from burning to stinging to agony so indescribably immense I can’t breathe. He slams me into trees and the ground, throwing “friendliness pellets” directly at my SOUL while he’s at it. The snow’s cold bite barely registers as I try to crawl away at one point, so pitifully helpless Flowey just laughs at my attempt to “run.” He catches me with ease and continues the agonizing torture, on and on and  _ on _ . I know my neck snaps at some point and my spine is shattered at another point, but I can’t find a way out of this loop. Not as I live and die before I can even tell when he Loads.

“Do you want to know how much I hate you?” Flowey finally asks after what feels like hours, dropping me to the ground. Blood rushes down my nose and from my ears. And terror hits me when I realize I can’t move a muscle. I can only stare straight above me as his smiling face smirks down. I don’t know what caused it, but I’m paralyzed.

“You live here in the Underground as if you’ve always belonged. You have powerful magic beyond any monster. And you act like you’re just a normal nobody when you could make all of them  _ bow _ . We could have risen above them all, together, but you made your mistake when you decided to fight me. I really wish you could’ve seen things my way, Krista. Maybe we could have even broken the Barrier at some point. But no, you’re content with living day by day and not doing anything  _ useful _ . Why not let me take over for a while? Let me have a few timeline runs without you moving up the Reset point? Or will I have to take extreme measures to make you obey?”

I just stare at him, utterly frozen. Flowey smiles, “Here, I’ll let you think about it,” he slices clean through my arms, but I don’t even feel it. “Your time starts now.”

Then he drops underground, leaving me in the silent forest. It’s funny that he wants me to do the opposite of Chara’s wishes, as if he knows I’m “working for her.”

But I won’t work for either of them. Even though my intentions help Chara, she’ll get what’s coming to her when we reach her desired point in time. All  _ I  _ want is for life to go on as it is meant to, without any resets or experiments. Flowey can do whatever he wants, but it won’t change my resolve. As much as the pathetic, selfish coward in me wants to give up, if only to end this torture, I  _ refuse  _ to allow Flowey to have his way. 

Tears stream down my temples as I take in the bliss of this numbness, an overwhelming relief from the unending suffering. I only have to think of my brothers to decide this is better than bowing to Flowey. I will take this for all of eternity if it means they have a chance at happiness, it’s the least they deserve. 

I close my eyes and let death take me, knowing it’ll probably come again when Flowey hears my response. My eyes open back to the Save point, with him holding me upside-down.

“So what do you say?” he asks smugly.

I just stare forward, deciding not to give him enough respect to respond. My decision won’t change, and my silence tells him that.

He squints and shakes me a bit, “What? To traumatized to speak?”

I remain silent and the flower smirks, lowering me to the ground. He drops me on my feet and relief floods me at the fact that I can stand.

“What’s the matter, Krista? Upset that you’ve lost?”

He leans in close and I can tell he’s proud of the blood now freezing above my lip. I feel the blood drying on the back of my head, too, glad that it didn’t drop below my hairline to stain my coat’s hood. If I’m going to survive this, then I don’t want the evidence to remain; Flowey would have too much satisfaction at that.

He lifts a vine to reach for the blood, as if it’s his creation, and I cut the vine with a single flash of magic, my reach far enough that I cut some of his stem, too. I turn and bolt, not caring about where I’ll end up. I just need to get out of here. Sure, he might just Load his Save to get me back, but I have to  _ try _ .

I run as fast as I can, feeling pain spark in my head every time a foot slams against the ground, but I don’t care. I don’t know how much time passes, but I finally spot a clearing ahead of me, and it’s not until I’m halfway across it that I realize where I am. I stop in my tracks and look up to my right, spotting the bridge high above. I’m standing on that frozen lake. The island of pine trees is about a quarter of a mile away from me, and I prepare to keep running when a vine slams against the ice in front of me.

The vine cuts deep, but still not deep enough to reach water. I look back and Flowey rises out of the bank, his vines thick and sharp enough to cut clean through an oak tree. Or better yet, centuries-old ice.

I try to move to the side, but he slams three other vines into the ice, trapping me on a square no bigger than the table at home. He only has to hit the ice a second time to reach water, and he breaks off chunks that he shoves under the main sheet. I realize that he’s made sure there’s no chance I can jump back onto it, forcing me to either make platforms of magic… or jump into the water.

“Would you like to try first?” Flowey taunts, as if he knows my magic is severely weakened right now. I lift a hand to create a platform and Flowey shoves the bit of ice I stand on, causing me to slip and plunge into the black water.


	31. Dearest To Only A Few

My eyes slam shut as the water engulfs me, sucking away the heat I had generated from running. It floods my nose and blocks my ears, silencing the world into still darkness. My clothes, coat, and boots drag me down as they absorb the water, hindering me even more as I try to kick to the surface. I may not know how to swim, but my survival instincts know that I need to move  _ up _ . And they will do anything in their power to get me there.

I kick and reach my arms as high above me as I can, praying they’ll break the surface soon, but there’s too much heaviness. The heaviness of my clothes, the pounding weight in my head… and the dread that suddenly squeezes my SOUL. I try to ignore it as my lungs begin to beg for air, but then I feel a ripple in the water beside me.

A muffled chuckle echoes through the water, and I feel cool scales glide across my forehead. I begin to panic, fighting to swim up, but I can’t. I’m going to die like this: drowning in these dark waters. It’s worse than in a silent forest, at least there my body can be found. Not like here, at the bottom of a forgotten lake.

“Oh dearest, you are quite the worrier,” a deep voice chuckles, as clear as if I’m not underwater. “Let me help you.”

Giant, clawed fingers grab either side of my head, draining the water out of my sinuses and filling my lungs with air. I gasp for breath and open my eyes, thinking I’m out of the water, but I’m not.

In the faint light from above, my vision focuses on a massive creature, its head like a serpent but its body like a lizard’s aside from its webbed feet. Its skin is a ghostly shade of white, scaled and marred by countless scars. The creature narrows its cloudy eyes on me, gripping my head tighter and I immediately think of the year it is.

“Oh my, has it really been 1700 years since they locked me down here?” the creature asks without moving its mouth.

My eyes widen as I realize it just read my mind, or more specifically, it  _ chose  _ something to read from my mind. And even worse, it can speak in my head, too.

Its gigantic mouth widens in a smile, big enough to swallow me with one gulp. “That’s right dearest; I have your mind now. And I must say, I’m  _ dying  _ to know all about you. In my time, this is considered a fair trade. I have saved you from drowning, but now you will only survive as long as I have you. This won’t take long; I do not expect much for payment. All I wish is to know you, for you see… the world must be different now from the one I once knew. No one has entered this lake since it froze over when those selfish monsters changed the Underground’s climate. Ever since then, I have been locked in this cold, suffocating darkness. So I must ask for your forgiveness if I’m a little rough. This might hurt a bit.”

The creature’s grip tightens and I scream as it replays today’s events in my mind. The images and pain flash with such overwhelming intensity that I actually feel warmth spark back into my body, as if I’m reliving the memories.

“Oh you poor thing, what horrible truths you have discovered today. Would it help if I took you back to a better time? Perhaps one that was safe and happy? I know I’d love to see it, too.”

The images stop and the creature smooths its fingers over my hair. “Here, you won’t feel a thing.”

I don’t know what it does, but I feel its magic caress my own, as if it’s trying to help me. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I feel a numbness take over my muscles, loosening them despite the frigid waters.

“And… sweet memory, dearest,” the creature whispers, merely an echo in the darkness.

***

My eyes open to the sight of the sun shining through the trees as they rush past, and an upbeat song drifts out of the speakers in front of me. My mom sings along with the song, and I look slightly to my right to see her sitting in the passenger seat, swaying her head to the music. 

She looks back at me and smiles, “Hey sleepyhead, did you have a good nap? Perfect timing, we're almost there.”

I just stare at her, dazed as I try to blink the clouds out of my eyes. She turns to my dad in the driver’s seat and rubs his shoulder, “Don’t get all tense on me; it will only be for the day.”

“I know, but it will be a whole day of walking on eggshells,” my dad replies, sighing.

“Marissa will be able to keep the peace.”

“It’s not just Carter and my parents that I’m worried about; it’s Krista. Ava is such a little…  _ brat  _ that I just know she’s going to bully our girl.”

“She’ll have Cody and Isla.”

“Yeah, and Ava will have a field day antagonizing all of them. She’ll say the same things about Isla that she said about Cody, as if she was some genius at eighteen months old and they’re brain-dead. And I can see her bossing Krista around already since ‘she’s the big nine-year-old.’ God, I knew Carter would raise his kid to be so conceited.”

“We’ll just watch them, and you already know I’m not going to let Ava get away with insulting our child. Carter can go to hell for all I care; I’ll put the little bitch in her place if she even  _ thinks  _ about talking down to Krista.”

My dad tenses and glances back at me in the rearview mirror, “Violet, language.”

“Oh, you didn’t hear anything, right, baby girl?” Mom asks giving me a smile.

Even though I hear what they’re saying, my mind doesn’t seem to process the information as I stare out the window. I can only remember where we’re going: to my Aunt Marissa’s house.

“I hear the song,” I say, knowing music is the one thing I can remember pretty well.

“Yeah, what’s it called?” Mom asks, turning the volume up.

“It’s ‘Spin Me Round!’” I say, jumping a bit as the chorus hits.

“Right! You’re so smart,” Mom says before turning back to Dad. “Ava certainly wasn’t as much at three years old.”

Dad laughs, “Carter might actually throw us out of the house if you act like that.”

“It’s not his house or your parents’, so they can shove it if they don’t want us there.”

“Violet, I don’t like when you get in this mood,” Dad says, seeming stressed.

“I only get in it because you let them push you around. So I am going to defend my husband, my daughter, and myself if anyone thinks about talking down to us today. After all, it’s not about anyone except Marissa and Cody, so if your brother or your parents try to create drama, I’ll handle it.”

Dad sighs as the car slows, and he pulls into the driveway of a house five times bigger than ours. “You’re right, but I really don’t want you to pick any fights today.”

“If they start it; I’ll end it, simple as that,” Mom says, innocently tilting her head.

Dad turns the car off and glances at the front door, seemingly not ready to move.

“I’ll take the gifts in; can you get her out of the car seat?” Mom asks. Dad just nods and she gives him a kiss on the cheek before whispering in his ear, “I know there’s a guy in there who can kick ass; can I see him knock some respect into his stupid big brother?”

Dad just lightly shoves Mom’s shoulder and she laughs, getting another kiss in before opening her door. It’s about a minute until Dad finally gets out of the car and opens my door.

“Alright, little gem, can you do me a favor today?” he asks, unbuckling my seat belt.

“What is it?” I ask.

“The oldest girl you’re going to meet is your cousin, Ava. She’s pretty bossy so you have to promise me that you’ll be a big girl too and stand your ground if she says anything that sounds mean, okay?”

“She’s gonna be mean to me?” I ask, surprised.

“Maybe, just be a big girl, okay? Cody will have your back. You remember your cousin Cody, right?”

“Yeah!” I say, remembering the few times we played together when he, Aunt Marissa, and Uncle Rob visited our house.

“Good girl,” Dad says, helping me out of the car and grabbing my hand. We walk to the open front door and my eyes widen at the grand foyer inside. I look up and I can’t help but say, “Whoa,” at the sparkling chandelier above us.

“Daddy, look,” I say, pointing.

“Yeah, what’s that?” he asks.

“A chandelier, with pretty crystals!”

“Maybe Aunt Marissa will let you have it one day, since she has four of them,” he says, smiling down at me.

My mouth drops open, “She has  _ four _ ? Where?”

“What is my favorite niece going to inherit?” Aunt Marissa asks, walking down the hallway in front of us.

“Auntie!” I yell, running into her arms before she can even make it halfway down the hall.

“Oh my goodness, you’ve gotten so big in five months! You’ll be taller than me before I know it!” she says, squeezing me into a tight hug.

“Don’t say that or she’ll tower over Violet,” Dad says.

“And you too, Donny,” Aunt Marissa says with a laugh, jumping up to give him a hug. “I’m really glad you guys came. I know it’s rough with Carter, but I’ve wanted a family reunion for years now. I guess it’s lucky Cody and I have the same birthday; it’s a good excuse.”

“I think you and Rob planned that out,” Dad says, raising an eyebrow.

“I will neither confirm nor deny the possibility,” Aunt Marissa says, hunching her shoulders with a sly smile.

“Well look who it is,” a rough voice says behind us as the front door slams shut. We turn and an older couple stands in the foyer, their faces stern and their postures rigid.

“Dad, Mom, it’s been a while,” my dad says, his voice suddenly lacking the happiness it had.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your daughter?” the woman asks harshly.

Dad puts a hand on my back and leads me into the foyer, his steps slow and cautious. “Yes, this is your granddaughter, Krista Isabel. Krista, these are my parents and your grandparents.” 

The older man stares me down with a cold gaze. His dark cyan eyes are so piercing that they make me want to hide behind Dad’s back. “Hmm, she doesn’t look anything like a Briggs.”

“That’s because she’s a Meadows,” my dad says, almost snapping.

The woman’s head jerks up at that, “Of course, how could we forget your ridiculous decision to leave our family name for that…  _ woman’s _ .”

“Don’t you dare talk about Violet like that,” my dad hisses.

“Uh, hey, I made some hors d’oeuvres; maybe we could go to the kitchen?” Aunt Marissa cuts in.

My… grandma? She smiles at my aunt and walks past me without a glance in my direction.

“I’m not surprised the car’s a rental; I doubt you can even afford one, can you?” my…  _ grandfather _ … asks.

“There’s no point in owning one when we live right next to a city,” Dad responds.

“Oh, of course, how could I forget the city surrounded by so many…  _ legends _ ,” the old man sneers.

“Watch it,” Dad warns.

“We told you the woman was a lunatic, and yet here you are seven years later, presenting her offspring as if you expect me to care about it when I know it’ll grow up believing her fairytales.”

My throat tightens at his tone, and my mind catches onto the word “ _ it _ .” Is he talking about me?

Dad picks me up so I face down the hallway, spotting Aunt Marissa and Mom in the kitchen. The old woman stands on the other side of the room from them, as if she’ll catch a cold if she gets too close.

“All I can say is that I tried, Dad. But you’re beyond hope. This is the only time you will ever see Krista, and maybe someday, you’ll regret this decision to despise  _ my  _ family.”

“I doubt it,” the old man says as the front door opens.

I turn around to see a young couple and a girl a few years older than me enter. The old man turns around and opens his arms to greet them, his tone the complete opposite of what it was two seconds ago.

“There’s my favorite family!” he exclaims and my dad tenses.

I don’t listen to anything they say as my attention focuses on the girl. She wears a dark teal green dress that compliments her strawberry-blonde hair and light blue eyes. In one word: pretty. In two words:  _ really pretty _ . So much that I feel unworthy of being in the same room as her. 

“Is that Ava?” I whisper in Dad’s ear. He nods, but takes me out of the foyer and into the giant living room with a vaulted ceiling and another chandelier. Dad sets me down on the floor and walks out of the room towards the kitchen. Cody jumps off the couch on the other side of the room and dodges the numerous brightly wrapped gifts to get to me.

“Krista!” he yells, pulling me into a hug.

“Happy birthday!” I say, holding him tightly.

“Thanks, I’m five! That means I’m going to start school soon!”

“Lucky, you’ll get to make so many friends.”

He laughs, “You’ll get there, too-”

“Hey kids, what are you talking about?” a cool voice asks.

We turn and Ava towers over us in her wedged heels with her hands on her hips.

“Oh, hi Ava, thanks for coming,” Cody says, his voice softer.

“So you’re the cousin I haven’t met. Dad says it’s because your mom is a freak. Does that make you a freak, too?” Ava asks me.

My mouth drops open in surprise. What am I supposed to say? “Uh… no.”

Ava laughs, “That’s not convincing. Your weird eye color tells me the answer is yes.”

I have… a weird eye color? “Really?” is all I say.

“Yeah, I’ve only met one other person with purple eyes, and he was a total wacko. The kid was a teacher’s pet and he hit another kid just because he was a little mean to him. If you ask me, a smart kid with a violent personality is definitely a freak. So are you one… what’s your name, Christina?”

“It’s Krista,” I say.

Ava rolls her eyes, “Nicknames are stupid. If that’s your full name, then go by it. Too bad if your parents gave you a long name, they should have been smart enough to give you a short one if they were planning on being lazy the whole time.”

“It’s not Kristina; it’s just Krista,” I say, a little surprised by my boldness. Ava’s words really made me forget her beauty for a second.

She smirks, “Was that an  _ attitude  _ I detected?”

“Why are you being so mean?” I ask.

Ava laughs, “Oh trust me, little kid. You don’t even know the  _ meaning  _ of the word.”

***

“Hmm, interesting,” a distant voice whispers as I’m pulled back to a cold, dark place. My eyes snap open and the white creature smiles at me, “Such fascinating circumstances.”

That was… a memory? But… I don’t remember any of that! I have never met Dad’s parents in my life!

“Oh but you have, dearest. With all the  _ awful  _ events in your life, you’ve forgotten those nicer ones from your early childhood. Although I must say, even then, there was some darkness swirling around you.”

“What did you do?” I ask the creature in my head.

“I simply helped you remember. Didn’t Mama teach you the legends of the Five Magic Whisperers?” My only response is a squint. “Well, 1700 years ago, we roamed the earth, traveling as we pleased, controlling who we wanted, but the humans and monsters agreed that we were too dangerous. So they sealed us underground, smothering our gifts with ancient spells. If I wasn’t hindered by them, I probably would have broken your mind by now. But I must say, it is nice to not kill someone in the process of dragging out their memories. Do you mind if I find one more? Your oldest cousin is certainly an interesting personality. Did you ever interact with her again?”

The memory that flickers in my mind without my permission makes the creature smile. “Ah, yes I would like to see that with full clarity.”

I try to wrench my head out of the Whisperer’s grip, but it’s far too strong as it shushes me. “Do not worry dearest; you won’t freeze to death yet. We have time.”

My muscles relax and my eyes close as I feel their ancient magic coerce mine into obeying, shoving me into a memory I’ve been ignoring for years.

*** 

I look behind me at the countless seats filled with people I don’t recognize. Most of them have grim faces while others are soft as they fix their eyes on me. I squint in annoyance. How can they try to sympathize when they don’t even know us? I face forward and think of the one good thing about today: at least we have the front row. I don’t know if I would be able to stand their eyes staring at my face, although I feel them on the back of my head.

Mable shifts in her seat next to me, and I grab her hand, knowing she’s getting anxious already. I don’t blame her, she’s only two, but she needs to stay  _ quiet _ . 

I stare at the picture of Mom resting against the podium on the stage. It was taken just a few months ago, when we had family pictures done. The one of the four of us now sits in the locket Mable wears, a heart that’s half green and half purple.

There’s no coffin, which is what makes this a memorial service rather than a funeral, as Dad said. But I see the terms as the same thing, if only because they both say goodbye. No one knows where he buried Mom, and I guess that’s for the best. She’s gone, and a grave is just a painful reminder of her death. We have pictures and memories; we don’t need to stare at a headstone that marks where her body lies in the cold ground.

A pastor walks onto the stage and thanks us for coming, as if this is a happy event. He talks about how life and death are intertwined and how one gives the other meaning. I find myself tuning him out, only focusing on that picture of Mom, of the reality that smothers my ears with silence. She’s dead, and she’s not coming back. I try to reason why it shouldn’t have happened and wonder who I should blame because of it. Was it just…  _ meant  _ to happen? How are we supposed to go on without her?

My focus bounces between my thoughts and Mable, making sure she doesn’t draw attention towards us. But that’s impossible because every person here is only thinking about us. At one point, Dad gets onstage, and I feel Aunt Marissa put an arm around my shoulders, as if what he’s about to say will hurt me the most.

“Violet was the most loving and considerate person I have ever met. She never asked much of anyone, and she was always searching for the bright side of life. She was fiercely devoted to the people she loved, and she was never one to shy away from making new friends. Even though her life was short, I know Violet made an impact on more people than I can name. And… and I hope we can all live by her example…”

Dad chokes on his last few words, and I feel my heart breaking as he tries to compose himself. I’ve only ever seen him cry tears of joy, like when Mable was born or when he’s laughed too hard, never tears of sorrow. I feel my own tears as he says a few more words before coming back down to us. The pastor says a few more things and the service is over before I know it.

Aunt Marissa leads us outside as Dad stays to talk to a few people. The faces I look up at as we walk all bear an expression of sympathy, but never empathy. They don’t know what to say because they don’t know how it  _ feels _ . 

We stand outside as people pour out of the church, most of them not even glancing our way now. But the one that does makes my blood run cold: Ava.

“Don’t you have a flight to catch soon, Aunt Marissa?” she asks.

My aunt nods, “Yes, but I have two hours.”

“Oh, that’s barely enough time; you don’t want to miss it. I can stand with my cousins until Uncle Sheldon’s done talking.”

Aunt Marissa glances in our direction and I give her a hug. Even though I don’t want to be around Ava, how bad can she be at a time like this? “It’ll be fine; you’ve been away from your family for two days already. I know I wouldn’t want my mom gone longer than she said.”

“Oh, Krista,” she says, kissing my forehead and then Mable’s. “I’ll try to visit again soon, okay? I love you both.”

“We love you, too,” I say.

My aunt pulls away and looks to Ava, giving her a much quicker hug, “Tell your parents I said ‘bye.’”

“Will do,” Ava says before our aunt walks in the opposite direction of us to the back parking lot. “So many goodbyes this weekend; I wish someone would say ‘hello.’”

I just grab Mable’s hand and walk a few paces away from the main entrance. Dad will find us; he’ll understand my frustration.

“Hey, you’re not going to give  _ me  _ a hug? Your only cousin who came all the way out here?” Ava asks, following us.

“None of the others did because they have the flu, so I don’t blame them for not coming,” I say.

“Aren’t you going to at least thank me?” Ava asks smugly.

“Why should I when neither you nor your family ever liked my mom?”

“We still came out here to support you guys despite that,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

I sigh, “Fine, thanks, now go back to your perfect life.”

“Is that what you think of me? Some snobby rich kid who only cares about herself? Krista, you know I care about you guys. I would give you all the pretty clothes I had when I was your age if your Dad wasn’t so stubborn. Our parents might have problems, but  _ we  _ don’t have to.”

“But you’ve made problems in the past,” I point out.

“Oh, I was an immature kid back then, and I’m sorry for that…  _ but _ ,” I tense at the last word, immediately recognizing that it makes her apology meaningless. “That was also when your crazy mom was around.”

I drop Mable’s hand to feel my fist clench, “ _ What _ ?”

“Come on, Krista. Your mom might have been nice, but she was a raving lunatic. If anything, I think her death did you guys a favor. You’re now free from believing her stupid legends about fantasy creatures. Your lives might actually be better now; you’ll go to an actual school and no one will have to know about the ridiculous stories you grew up on. You can be  _ normal  _ now. It might not seem like it, but good things can come out of the bad. Maybe fate did you a favor.” 

Ava’s words tap into something cruel and dark inside me, something that makes me want her to  _ hurt _ . I stare at her smug face and realize what I want. Maybe it’s my emotions or that dark feeling, but something takes over and I lunge for her. Despite her height, I knock Ava to the ground and dig my fingernails deep into the skin just below her left eyebrow. She screams, but not soon enough as I drag my nails down over her shut eye, stopping right at her cheekbone.

“You take it back!” I scream at her, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction at the blood beginning to run down her face.

Hands roughly grab my shoulders and yank me to my feet as another set help Ava up.

“You little  _ bitch _ !” Uncle Carter yells, and I feel a calloused hand hit my face.

I gasp at the blinding, burning pain and feel tears pinch in my eyes. It’s only when I regain focus do I realize the horrible word he called me, a word I’ve only heard a handful of times in my life.

To my right, Mable just stands there, crying, and my aunt and uncle now peer at Ava’s wound a few steps in front of me. I can’t help but feel the faintest smirk at the three bleeding lines now marring my cousin’s beautiful face.

“What’s going on?” my dad asks, finally out of the church.

“That little bitch you call a daughter just attacked our Ava with no warning. If you don’t punish her, then I will,” Carter snaps.

Dad looks at the hand I’m pressing against the left side of my face and his eyes widen.

“Did you hit her?” he asks.

Carter smirks, “Well, I know you’re too soft to punish her; that’s only a preview of what she truly deserves.”

“How  _ dare  _ you-” Dad lunges for Carter and Aunt Emma shoves him back.

“I suggest you leave before we file charges, Sheldon. You know all too well that you won’t be able to afford paying for our daughter’s pain and suffering. Even with the money from Violet’s life insurance, I will make  _ sure  _ to get every penny beyond that,” Emma hisses.

Dad backs away towards me, “I never want to see any of you ever again. It’s clear that we are not family. You only came here to say you told me so, to say that loving Violet was a mistake. Well guess what? I don’t regret that choice, and I don’t regret either of my daughters. So you can go to hell for all I care; I’m done with your bullshit.”

He picks up Mable and grabs my hand, leading us down the city street.

“Fine, none of us ever cared about your life anyway, Sheldon! So throw it all away in remembrance of a dead mental patient!” Carter yells.

We don’t look back as we walk, led only by the lights from the buildings around us. Even though the sky is a dark, dim gray, it’s still too early for the streetlights to awaken. It takes us a half hour to get home, and none of us speak the entire walk.

When we enter the house, Dad just ushers Mable to our room and tells her to get ready for bed. I stay right by the front door, feeling my emotions build to the point that they’re going to overwhelm me. How mad will he be? Is there a way I can explain that sudden, dark feeling I had?

Once Mable’s settled into bed, Dad shuts the door and walks up to me, his expression hard to read in the dim light. None of us bothered to turn on the lamps, there’s nothing to see since everything will just remind us of Mom.

“What happened?” Dad asks, his voice not judging, just empty and hollow.

I try to explain Ava’s words as best as I can, but the tears take over and I crumble to the floor into incoherent sobs. “I’m s- sorry, I d- don’t know why I did it. But it was like she was happy Mom’s d- dead.”

Dad sighs and sits on the floor in front of me, cupping my face. “I want to hear it from you to make sure. Did Carter hit you?”

I look up at him and nod, feeling one of his tears hit my forehead. “D- did I deserve it?” I ask.

He pulls me into a hug, his head resting on top of mine. “No, Krista, never.”

I wrap my arms around him, feeling that warm, safe security. The type that tells me Dad will take care of everything. But it doesn’t ease the pain.

“I miss Mommy,” I whisper, feeling that deep ache, the one reminding me that this is my new reality: a world without her.

“Me too, baby girl. Me too.”

***

“Truly heartbreaking indeed, dearest,” the creature says, pulling me back to the present. “So much pain experienced in such a short life. Although I must say I appreciate the irony of your father’s words, given that he became worse than your uncle in just a few years.”

I can’t feel anything as I stare at the creature, unable to move any of my limbs.

“Was that the last time he held you with love in his heart?” the creature tightens its grip on my head, forcing an answer.

“Yes,” my mind whispers.

“Such a shame. I’ve seen less tragic lives with many, many more years than you. If I could end your life for good right now, I would. In fact, I was hoping your body temperature would be cool enough by now to devour you, but unfortunately, it is not. And seeing that you’ve died multiple times today, I am unable to free you from the hell of life permanently. But it seems that is something you do not want anyway. I deeply admire your perseverance, it is a strength few possess and even fewer live by. All I can wish you is the best of luck, dearest. Perhaps our paths will cross again someday, and if you do break the Barrier… please don’t forget me.”

Water suddenly floods back into my nose, and my eyes snap shut as the liquid stings them. The creature lets go of my head and pushes the soles of my feet, forcing me up towards the surface. I reach my hands up and feel them break through thin, barely formed ice.

I take a breath and thrash my way over to the main sheet of ice, grabbing it with numb fingers. I clumsily climb onto it, melting the snow with the water dripping off me. My body rejects the water still lingering and I cough several times, gasping for breath.

I look up to get my bearings, trying to remember what happened before I fell into the lake. A flash of light from above catches my eyes, and I spot two figures fighting on the path before the bridge. Just a glimpse of one of Flowey’s vines makes me jump to my feet and sprint for the rock wall I should be able to climb to get up there. Unfortunately, I have a long way to run just to get to the wall, and I can feel my body beginning to shut down from the cold. I don’t know how long I was underwater, but if it wasn’t for my magic or that creature’s, I’m sure I would’ve been dead by now. 

I can’t feel my feet when they hit the ground, only a slight shudder that ripples through my body with each impact. A faint wind begins to pick up, and it bites my face as water freezes on my skin. But I ignore the numbing, burning pain because I  _ have  _ to get up there; it must be Papyrus he’s fighting, and I realize this is exactly what the flower wants. Without me in the way, he’ll kill him, and that will force me under his rule. Flowey will have his timelines as long as someone I care about is dead.

It’s infuriating how slow I am, weighed down by my wet clothes and that piercing cold settling deep into my bones. I’m just barely halfway to the cliff when my legs give out on me, aching from numbness and overuse. Or is it something else? I feel the back of my head where it hit a chunk of ice and find the blood frozen solid. But the water wasn’t cold enough to freeze it…

I finally look at my fingers and catch my breath to see the tips of them tinged a faint blue. Oh no. No, no, no. I can’t have hypothermia or frostbite right now. I need to get up there!

I force myself to my feet, feeling an immense pressure in my head as I realize my blood has probably turned to slush… meaning I don’t have much time left. I walk and crawl my way through the snow, doing anything in my power to keep moving and to stay conscious. I don’t know how long it takes me, but I eventually reach the rock wall and begin climbing without pause. The footholds aren’t as friendly as the ones in Waterfall, and I almost slip to my death multiple times. A few cuts sluggishly bloom blood on my hands as I dig my numb fingers into sharp rocks I can’t feel. Even as I climb higher, I realize I can’t hear the fight above me. Did they move somewhere else?

Tears of frustration blur my vision as I climb at an even slower pace than I walked, moving upward based on the pure  _ need  _ to get to the top. I can do this; I  _ have  _ to do this.

Miraculously, I make it to the top and pull my exhausted body onto the path, unsure how I’ll even be any help in my current state.

“Krista?” I hear Sans ask, and I look up to see him standing a few paces away… behind a pile of dust. I don’t have to ask who it was when I spot Papyrus’ red scarf lying next to it. Fresh tears cloud my vision and I look down, utterly ashamed. I should have protected him. I shouldn’t have run from Flowey. This… this is all my fault.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, realizing just how much I’m trembling. It’s uncontrollable, so powerful that I can barely move my limbs anymore.

Sans wraps me in a hug, his voice insistent as he says, “This isn’t your fault. It is all  _ Flowey’s _ .” I try to nod, but my head hurts so much I just rest it on his shoulder. “What the hell happened? Why are you wet? And… why do you feel so cold?”

He lifts my head and whatever he sees on my face makes his eyes black out. In an instant, we’re in the house and he shoves me toward the dresser in the attic.

“Put something warm on,” he demands before rushing downstairs.

I stare numbly at the shut door before I follow his orders, or at least I try to follow them. I’m only able to get my coat off before my legs give out on me, and I collapse to the floor. I get my boots pulled off along with my socks and my shirt, surprised that I’m warmer without them. The exhausted part of my brain decides this is enough, but the logical side keeps me up and I turn around to reach for one of the drawers. The sight of my bloody hands makes my stomach clench, and I feel so sick that I think I just might pass out. I rest my head against the dresser at the sudden overwhelming nausea, figuring I don’t need a sweater, my cami’s fine. Besides, I’m shaking so much I don’t even know if I have the strength to open a drawer.

I hear a knock at the door, but speaking above a whisper seems so exhausting to me that I don’t respond. The door opens and I hear a sharp gasp.

“Damn it Krista, you’re not allowed to pass out on me,” I hear Sans hiss. He grabs my shoulders, surprisingly gentle despite his tone and forces me to look at him. “I need you to stay awake, okay? Just until I’m sure you’ll be alright. I can’t… I can’t lose both of you in one night.”

I just stare at him as my brain tries to process what he says, and I feel the warmth of his healing magic touch my lips and my hands.

“I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure blue lips and fingers is a bad sign for humans. So just stay awake for me.”

I just barely nod and he hisses with pain a bit before letting me go and jumping up to pull a sweater out of a drawer. He helps me put it on and then shortcuts us downstairs in front of the fireplace where a fire is already roaring in the hearth.

“Here,” he says, putting a blanket around my shoulders and bringing me a cup of tea from the kitchen. The only light in the room is from the fire, and I hear the wind outside finally pick up to the point that it howls. I have a feeling we’re going to have a blizzard tonight.

“What about…” I’m not sure what to say. Papyrus? His dust?

“I think the weather will take care of that; it’s not like there’s much we can do,” Sans shrugs, tears shining in his eye sockets as he sits to my right. I feel Cody nuzzle against my other side and I place a hand on his fur, glad that his body feels sweltering hot in comparison to my cool fingers.

“You shouldn’t have used your healing magic on me,” I whisper to Sans, sensing how much he’s hurting right now.

“Hey, you felt cold to  _ me _ , which means you’d be dead by now if I didn’t do anything,” he almost snaps.

I take a deep breath, “What happened?”

He sighs, “Papyrus and I have a connection in which we can feel the other’s emotions when we want to. If they’re strong enough, we can feel them without even trying. That’s what woke me up. He was terrified, but also a little determined. I... got there ‘in time’ to see the killing blow... and of course, Flowey left before I could give him what he **_deserved_ ** . I don’t know how much later it was, but when you climbed up from that cliff… I honestly thought I was hallucinating. I already believed you were dead; I didn’t even consider the possibility that he might have separated you two. So your turn, what happened?”

I can barely hear him as my attention fixates on the fire, on its warmth and beauty. I’m so cold that I wish I could just stick my hands straight into it, but I restrain myself, trying to focus on Sans’ words.

“I… I did die... countless times. When I had the chance to get away, I ended up on the frozen lake, and he broke the ice so I fell in. There was a creature that lived in the water, and it went through my memories.”

I have to put the mug of tea down as my muscles still tremble, and I press a hand against my forehead. I’ve been hit with so many revelations today that it feels like it’s been a week since I woke up from my first death. Has all of this really been only one day?

“How bad was it?” Sans whispers.

“Not as bad as the ones Gaster picked. In fact I didn’t even remember the first one.”

“How is that possible?”

I wave my fingers around the way he usually does, “Magic.”

He just barely smiles, “What were they?”

“Can I explain tomorrow?” I ask, my eyes are so  _ unbearably  _ heavy that I feel like I’m on the verge of collapsing. “I promise I won’t die.”

“Okay,” he agrees, probably seeing the desperation in my eyes. He grabs the nearly empty mug of tea and goes to the kitchen. I drop onto my right side and stare into the fire, savoring its delicious warmth. Cody snuggles against my back and my eyes close, wrapping me in darkness, but this time, it’s safe and warm.


	32. Stronger In The Aftermath

My eyes open to a blindingly bright morning, and I have to cover them for a few minutes to bring myself back to reality. The fire softly crackles beside me and I roll onto my back, realizing that someone put a pillow under my head. I hear someone yelling outside and I jump when the door is thrown open, revealing Undyne’s angry face.

“What the hell happened!?” she yells, her voice slightly shaky.

I sigh and rub my head to soothe the ringing in my ears. “Didn’t Sans explain anything?” I ask.

“I want to hear it from you. What happened to Papyrus?” she snaps.

“A SOULless flower killed him,” I say bluntly, staring at the ceiling.

“What?” the captain snaps, walking over and yanking me up by the shoulder.

The movement makes stars burst in my eyes, and I shield them from the light. “Ow, can I have a break, please?”

“What happened to you?” Undyne asks, finally noticing the dried blood on my hands.

“It’s a lot to explain and I’d rather say it all with Sans here.”

“You got it,” Sans says, walking into the house with a cup of hot chocolate. Cody trots in on his heels and Sans kicks the door shut. My puppy runs up to me and licks my cheek, as if he hasn’t seen me in ages. A quick glance out the window tells me it’s already mid-afternoon, which I guess means it’s been a long time to him.

“I know you like Lavora’s the best,” Sans says, handing me the warm cup of chocolate. “Maybe it’ll finally get your temperature back to normal.”

His comment makes me realize that despite my proximity to the fire, I’m not sweating. Unlike the faint sheen I already see on Undyne’s brow. Just how low did my temperature get?

I sigh and explain it all, not caring that Undyne will probably think a lot of my story is crazy. I go through my multiple deaths in the woods and the memories the creature forced me through. I’m mainly explaining for Sans, since Undyne won’t remember any of this once Flowey Resets, but her reaction does surprise me.

“It seems being an asshole runs in your Dad’s side of the family. Good to know you didn’t inherit much,” Undyne tries to joke.

“Thanks,” I say with a shrug. “So that’s where we are with Flowey. I change his Reset point as often as possible, but I’m sure this is what he’s going to do. He’ll kill me or any one of us to keep me from moving time forward. He’s obsessed with testing out every possible timeline of events he can imagine.”

“How come you guys never consulted me about this?” Undyne asks, seemingly offended.

“Well, if you remember when Flowey Resets, we’ll make sure to let you tag along. Otherwise, it’s probably better if you don’t,” Sans says.

“And why is that?” Undyne snaps.

“Because if more people remember, then there’s just more who will suffer.”

***

Flowey doesn’t Reset for an entire  _ week _ , creating a week filled with silence, a week trying to find a new routine that will be pointless anyway, a week with an aching hole that constantly reminds me that this isn’t right.

He only has the guts to pop up once, in which I just nearly slice his head off before he retreats underground with a snicker. Other than that, he shows just what a coward he is: waiting in the shadows, hoping the loss of our brother will destroy us. How unfortunate that Flowey doesn’t know how long I’ve lived this: a life without someone I love. It’s far more difficult for Sans, and I try to help him in any way I can, but it also feels cruel, as if I’m trying to convince him to move on.

The silence of Papyrus’ absence is suffocating, and it doesn’t help that I’m plagued with nightmares of death every single night. Sometimes it’s watching those I love die while others are filled with every form of pain I know. The sensation of having my throat sliced open is certainly something that won’t leave me for a long time. Both Sans and I probably only get about ten hours of sleep for the whole week, and even then, we’re restless. The exhaustion is excruciating, but we can’t overcome it as much as we try to ignore our circumstances.

When I finally do feel that pain announcing a Reset, I sigh with relief, so sick of this false reality of Flowey’s making. Who is he to have the right to so much power? Why should he be able to hold so much control over everyone in the Underground? It’s not like he’s a Determination  _ human _ , which means he’s far weaker than one would be. Does that mean then… that I should be able to overpower him?

In the instant that I’m kneeling back by the purple star, I send a spike clean through Flowey’s face, not caring about the lingering rush of using so much power to save the point.

Papyrus jumps back and the flower crumples to the ground, dead.

“Krista how… how did you know he was there?” Papyrus asks, still crouching beside me from where I hit the ground after using so much magic.

Hearing his voice makes tears spark in my eyes, and I spin around to hug him. “You know I love you, right?” I ask, making sure he knows it.

“O- of course, and I love you, too,” he says, hugging me back. “Did… something like this already happen?”

I sigh and pull back, “Yes.”

“Did… did I die?”

I nod, “And then he didn't Reset for a week.”

“A whole week?” he asks, his eye sockets widening.

“Come on, we should get home before he Resets again. I at least want Sans to see you before anything else happens.” I get up and start heading back to the house, but Papyrus stares at the flower’s remains.

“But you… you killed Flowey,” my brother says in disbelief.

I sigh, knowing he wouldn’t have even if he witnessed Sans’ death or mine. It’s just the kind of person he is. A kind of person I can’t even dream of being as good as.

“Yes, but he’ll just come back. I know you wouldn’t despite knowing that, and I admire you for being so noble. But I can’t allow him to stick around when our lives are at stake.” He glances back at the flower, conflicted, and I grab his shoulders. “Papyrus, I will  _ never  _ ask you to do something you don’t want to do. But I  _ will  _ do it if I think it needs to be done. All I hope is that you’ll still love me despite that.”

“Of course I will, Krista. I just don’t want you to go down a dark path because of it.”

I keep my eyes locked on his, insistent of my sincerity. “I promise I won’t.”

He nods, but I get the feeling he doesn’t entirely believe me.

We get back to the house and Sans bursts out of his room, shortcutting down to hug our brother. I find myself staring out the window as Sans gives Papyrus a better explanation than mine, and I don’t care that he fills him in on every detail, including my encounter with the creature, the memories, and just how dark this town was without him. All my main focus is on the snow outside, just watching and waiting for that pain to alert me.

“Krista? You okay?” Sans eventually asks.

“I don’t know if I can live like this for much longer,” I say hollowly.

“With the Resets?” Papyrus asks gently.

I nod, “I think… I think I should find a way to overpower him. Maybe see if I can have full control.”

“How will you be able to do that?”

I frown, “Probably through trial and error, which means I don’t have a good plan. But if I can figure it out… then we wouldn’t have to be afraid of him anymore.”

“Don’t hurt yourself in the process; if you can’t figure it out, don’t beat yourself up. We’ll get through it,” Sans says.

“Yeah, no matter what, Flowey can’t completely control our lives,” Papyrus says.

“I know, but it’d be nice to take away  _ his  _ power for once,” I reply.

“Oh, don’t worry. I think we already have,” Sans says with a smirk.

***

I save the Reset point every morning, and even when Flowey does Reset a week and two days later, he never shows up. I smirk when I think of the coincidence of his return; the creepy guy is back on the day of spooks: Halloween. Apparently, it’s not a holiday recognized by the monsters, which leads me to believe it was something humans created as a joke when the stories became legends. They know about it since humans have told them, but it’s nothing more than salt in a wound. 

Monsters have their own day meant for dressing up simply called “Remember Day” on February 26th. That was the day when the humans sealed them underground. Ironically, the monsters celebrate the day as a symbol that they haven’t given up hope. They either dress up as things commonly related to the Surface or just in fancy costumes in general, and there’s always a huge celebration in New Home City. According to Lavora, “elite” guests are invited to the castle’s ballroom, and there’s a front row seat to the Underground’s version of fireworks. The definition of “elite” to Asgore is as many people as possible, and he makes sure that every citizen is invited to the castle as often in their lives as they can be. Lavora said she’s been there forty-six times in her 128 years.

I can’t help but admit that I’m excited for the holiday; an excuse to celebrate would be nice after all the pain and frustrations I’ve dealt with lately. It helps that we’ve got Gyftmas and New Year’s coming up. I swear this is the longest year I have ever lived, which is a very  _ literal  _ statement.

It was difficult for the boys and I to go back to our normal schedules after all that happened, especially for Sans. I know he’s checking on Papyrus multiple times a day, barely caring about his job in Hotland. And I catch him out of the corner of my eye sometimes when I’m on my own watch. I don’t blame him, but he’s living in that same paranoia that we’re trying to push back.

I’ve been trying to manipulate the Save star every day, attempting to create my own Save and Reset options. But no matter what I try or how much I want it, I can only Persevere. I don’t know what more I can do. I know just being able to update the point is helpful enough on its own, but I want  _ full  _ control, not this partial bit that still leaves us under Flowey’s non-existent mercy. 

The only good thing I can say about the past week is how much more honest everything feels. There’s no more tip-toeing around in fear that Papyrus will learn something we’re afraid of him finding out. We still haven’t explained the Flowey situation to Undyne, and I’m still unsure if we should. She has enough to worry about, and I really don’t want her to involve others. Thankfully, Papyrus understands our reasoning and doesn’t tell her, although I’m sure he wants to.

I wake up for the second time today, feeling a pang of fear at the knowledge that Flowey’s back in the game. Sans tells Papyrus to be on alert and to call him in case he’s even a little suspicious that the flower might be nearby. Papyrus politely agrees even though I can tell he’s a little annoyed by our brother’s overprotectiveness.

“I’d tell you to call, too, if you weren’t so damn stubborn,” Sans says, squinting at me before he leaves for the day.

“Trust me, I’ll survive longer without it,” I say with a shrug.

Sans had bought two phones a few days ago just in case any of us get into trouble, and it took me all of a minute to figure out that technology hates me. Even though it looks like a walkie-talkie mixed with one of the first mobile phones ever created, I still can’t figure out the buttons. The boys figured it out pretty fast, and even though I truly wanted to learn, I became way too frustrated. Even when I sort-of understood the basics, I reasoned the phone was too heavy to me.

“This is life and death we’re talking about,” Sans said, raising an eye socket.

“Yeah, and I’ll be dead if I try to figure it out with only seconds to make a decision,” I replied. He backed down after that, but he got away with a nasty look of disapproval. I know he’s just being a protective brother, but he seriously needs to chill out. He’s usually pretty calm, but I can tell Papyrus’ death has set him on edge. Maybe it’s just because I have  _ some  _ power in this situation that I feel less paranoid. The boys have always been at the mercy of someone else, and even though my power helps them, it’s still not  _ theirs _ . I wish I could change that, but there’s nothing I can think of to help.

I leave the house with Cody and head for my post, only glancing back at my brothers for a second. I smile a bit when Papyrus calms the winds of the blizzard separating Snowdin and Waterfall. He figured it out a while ago, utilizing blue magic to make the snow stop in mid-air. It reminds me that he’s strong, and both my brothers can take care of themselves. It’ll be okay; we’ll live.

After an hour of wandering around the path near my post, I pause when I hear a knock somewhere. It’s soft and light, but I’m able to trace it to the source when I hear it a few more times: the Ruins doors. I approach it cautiously, wondering if this is one of Flowey’s tricks.

“Knock-knock?” a soft voice asks when I’m right in front of the door, suggesting the person has already asked a few times.

“Who’s there?” I say back, keeping my voice light in case it isn’t Flowey.

“Oh, you’re not Sans,” the light, feminine voice says. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“No, it’s fine. How do you know Sans?” I ask, still slightly suspicious.

“A little over a week ago, I heard him knocking on the door, practicing different jokes. I joined in and we told knock-knock jokes to each other for a while before he told me a little about himself. He said he normally doesn’t work in Snowdin and that it’s usually his sister. Are you Krista by any chance?”

“Yeah, I am,” I say, a little surprised. He made a friend, and he never mentioned her to us?

“Oh well, hello! Your brother spoke very highly of you. He said you are the strongest person he knows and that your other brother, Papyrus, right? He’s the coolest person Sans knows.”

I can’t help but chuckle a little bit. It’s one of those things where we don’t say it to each other often, but we recognize and appreciate each other’s abilities.

“Well tell him he’s the most trustworthy person I know,” I say.

“Do you not tell your siblings how much you value each other very often?” the woman asks.

“Definitely not as much as we should, but I think it has to do with that fear that if you admit how much someone means to you, then they’ll be taken away.”

“That’s a very sad way to live; you should always let others know how much they mean to you.”

“I know, and I’d like to think I’m getting better at it,” I say, leaning against the door and looking up at the ceiling, wishing I told my sister how much I loved her more often. The sudden quiet makes me curious about the woman, and I send out a sense of magic in search of her SOUL. If it’s Flowey pretending, then I shouldn’t find anything…

I feel a slight push against my magic when I try to pass the door, as if there’s some type of ward protecting it. It takes some effort, but I’m able to maneuver around it to get to the other side. My guess is that it’s a slight barrier to keep monsters out of the Ruins. The fact that I’m human is probably why it doesn’t affect me much.

“So what’s your name?” I ask as I search my way over.

“Oh, it’s uh… Tulovia,” she hesitates.

“It was that hard to remember your name?” I ask, feeling my suspicions rise.  _ Almost there _ .

“O- oh, well I don’t talk to many people here in the Ruins. It’s been a while since I’ve introduced myself to someone new.”

“Sans didn’t ask for your name?”

“No, he just introduced himself, but he didn’t ask for mine.”

“Well, it’s common courtesy to give your name,” I say, my heart speeding up as I fear Flowey’s going to bust the doors down.  _ Almost there _ .

“Forgive me, common courtesy has all but been forgotten here in the Ruins,” she says, seeming nervous.

_ Gotcha _ . I find her SOUL, but it makes me leap back in surprise when I find the immense  _ power  _ she carries. What’s scary is that it reminds me the most of  _ Asgore’s  _ power.

The woman gasps and I hear her feet shuffle on the other side. “You’re a… a  _ human _ ?”

“Who are you?” I snap.

“I never thought… how did you get down here?” she asks.

“You haven’t answered my question,” I say sternly.

She sighs, “If I do, you must promise not to tell anyone my true name.”

“Who. Are. You?” I say, not making any promises to a  _ stranger _ .

“I… my name is Toriel,” she finally says.

I take a step back, “The queen?”

“I am not the queen anymore, not after what happened,” she says softly.

“Because of Chara and Asriel,” I say.

“No, because of  _ Asgore _ … and his foolish, selfish choices... How do you know about my children?”

“The king- Asgore told me what happened.”

“Why would he tell you? How are you still alive?”

I sigh, “Because I had what none of the others had: my brothers and magic.”

“You fought him?”

“No. But circumstances led us to living with him for a couple months.”

“I can’t believe he would’ve had a change of heart,” she says a bit cynically.

“I give the credit to my brothers.”

“So… they’re not humans, too?”

“No, they’re skeletons. It’s a long, complicated, and kind of unbelievable story, but it’s led us to our home here in Snowdin.”

“I think that’s a story I’d like to hear,” she says, seemingly calmed down.

“How about when we meet face-to-face?” I say, evading the chances of trying to explain with a bunch of half-truths. I press my back against the door again, finding a sense of confidence in the relaxed position.

“You believe that’s a possibility?”

“I do. In the meantime, I’ll make sure not to reveal your identity to the Underground, but I have a feeling you’ll face Asgore again someday.”

“What makes you believe that?”

I smirk, wondering what Chara will think of her parents reuniting after centuries apart. “Just a feeling; I’ve been told I’m quite perceptive.”

“Krista… I must ask… how did you enter the Underground?”

“Through the Barrier.” I hate the lie, but I’ve got to keep it consistent now. At least my brothers know the truth, but that’s only because they know it’s not crazy.

“Do you wish you could go back to the Surface? Do you have family up there?”

I find myself shaking my head before I remember I have to say it, “No.”

If those memories told me anything, it’s that no one misses me. Sure, Aunt Marissa cared about me, but my father- or should I say Chara? -made sure to sever all ties with the only relatives who cared about us. It’s why she never came to our rescue, as much as I once dreamed she would in those early years. Over time, it made me resent her, and after a while, I felt that she hated my mom just as much as Carter did. It made me believe she and her whole family were just faking their love, something far worse than the others outright saying they hated us. Now, I don’t see it that way, I think she truly did care, but my father’s anger and bitterness was enough to keep her away. As much as it seems I’ll see the Surface again, I’d be perfectly fine never seeing any of them again. I only wish they found their happiness in life, as I’m still finding mine.

“Is that why you came down here? To find one?” Toriel asks cautiously.

I shrug, “More like it found me when I least expected it. Life has a wondrous way of surprising me like that. I’m used to the bad, so the sparks of good have been nice changes.”

“So… something bad led you down here?”

My senses go on alert when I spot Flowey pop up at the end of the path, and even this far away, I can tell he’s smirking.

“Yes, but things change, and I’d like to think I’ve grown,” I say, staring him down, feeling my magic stir.

“Just how long has it been?” Toriel asks.

“I’m sorry, but can we talk more tomorrow? Something came up on my phone and I need to go.”

“Oh, of course, sorry,” the former queen says and I get a sense that she’s now using a voice she applied to speeches: sincere and professional.

“It’s fine, talk to you tomorrow,” I say before heading down the path, giving Cody a gesture that tells him to stay behind me.

“Did you have a nice swim?” Flowey asks me when I stop a couple yards away from him.

“It was delightful,” I say, my voice drenched with sarcasm.

“That’s not very convincing,” he says in that infuriatingly chipper voice.

“What do you want now?” I snap.

“Something changed for you the last time we interacted; I would like to know what it was,” he says slyly.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I don’t like it when someone knows something I don’t,  _ especially  _ with our circumstances.”

“Poor Flowey, do you feel threatened by your loss of power? Is the world just so horrible when you don’t know every detail that composes it?” I say smugly.

He keeps his bravado, but I see a flicker of worry in his eyes. “Okay, if you tell me, then I won’t bother you for a week. How does that sound?”

“A month,” I demand, knowing that’s a lot to ask in and of itself, but I don’t care. I have some control for once, but why does he want to know so bad? How is he able to sense what changed in me?

“Fine, a month,” he agrees.

Wow, this must  _ really  _ be serious for him, but that implies he knows something I don’t, too.

“How could you tell?” I ask.

“There’s something…  _ different  _ about your magic. It’s very subtle, but as a ‘SOULless husk of Determination,’ I’m good at picking up on things like that,” he says, faintly squinting.

“Why does that matter so much to you?”

He chuckles, “Well, in a world where most people never change, even the most subtle differences are pretty startling. So tell me what it was, Krista, and I’ll grant you a month’s worth of peace.”

“Alright,” I say, crossing my arms, feeling a smirk rise. The truth will probably go over his head since there’s no way he could’ve learned about Chara... right? Or maybe he does know since he’s had so much time to discover the Underground. Does that mean he’s probably seen the Void? “Do you know about the former  _ human  _ princess, Chara Dreemurr?” 

Flowey’s eyes shrink and he tenses up at her name, making me believe he’s been in the Void. “Oh you do? Good,” I say, wondering what kind of hell she’s put him through. “Then-”

A vine whips up from the ground and snaps around my throat, forcing me to my knees. “ _ How do you know about her _ ?” Flowey whispers in a deadly voice.

On instinct, I throw a wave of magic at him, the blow so powerful that Flowey’s thrown ten feet away from me. I gasp and rub my throat, glaring in his direction.

“Everybody knows about her,” I snap.

“Then what does she have to do with what changed!?” he screams.

Whoa, where did  _ this  _ come from? Why would Flowey care so much about  _ Chara _ ? It’s as if… he knows her. Could she have manipulated him into caring about her? But she talked about him as if he was a nuisance. If Flowey  _ did  _ know her, then he wouldn’t be Resetting time since that’s against her wishes.

“I talked to her,” I say simply, getting back to my feet.

“ _ How _ ?”

“I’d think you’d know considering all the time you’ve had to discover every inch of the Underground.”

“What are you talking about?” the flower snaps.

I realize a dark, selfish part of me is enjoying this, seeing Flowey so disturbed and angry. “It doesn’t matter; I gave you my reason, and you must now stay away from me for a month, which includes anyone I interact with, too.”

“That’s barely a reason,” he snaps and vines shoot up from the ground.

I feel a wicked calm take over me and I throw out a hand, cascading a wave of magic into his vines that makes them shrivel like burnt grass. Flowey’s eyes widen and I even see him wince in pain. Good. He’s tortured me enough, and without exhaustion or drained magic holding me back, I can finally show him what kind of power  _ I  _ possess. Power that I’ve been held back from for far too long. 

“I’m done with you, Flowey. This world isn’t yours anymore. You’ve had your fun, but now you must move on and find some form of meaning in life. That’s something only you can do. If you’re smart, you’ll stay away for good.”

Flowey snarls, “You’re an idiot if you think life has meaning. In this world, it’s  _ kill or be killed _ . We all live and die for  _ nothing _ . Now how the hell did you talk to Chara!?”

I form a globe of magic and lift it as a warning, “Goodbye, Flowey.”

With one last snarl he drops underground and I smirk, hoping this means I’ve finally won for once in my pitiful life.

***

“Why didn’t you tell me about your friend?” I ask Sans at lunch, munching on a ridiculously salty fry. Someone got a little too carried away with the salt shaker.

“Who?” he asks, raising an eye socket.

“The woman who lives in the Ruins,” I say, tossing a couple fries to Cody next to me. In the human world, a dog sitting in a booth would be ridiculous, but here, it’s funny how everyone sees him like a normal customer. I guess it helps that a large portion of Grillby’s business is supported by every dog in the Royal Guard.

“Oh her, well I only met her that one day,” Sans shrugs. “Let me guess, she was knocking on the door?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you actually needed to  _ practice  _ knock-knock jokes,” I say, smirking.

“I’ve heard it’s what the best comedians do,” he says, leaning back as if he’s a professional.

“Ha, I guess the former queen heard that, too.”

His eye sockets narrow, “What?”

“Yep, she’s the former queen, Toriel. Which reminds me, why didn’t you ask for her name?”

“I don’t know, I just never got the chance,” he says, seeming a little guilty now that he thinks about it.

“Well, it doesn’t matter much now. She actually didn’t want me to tell anyone about her identity. Hush-hush, right?” I say, dipping a fry in ketchup.

“So many secrets,” he rolls his eyes but nods anyway. “Any other surprises today?”

“Well, I’d like to think I’ve officially taken care of our flower problem,” I say, slyly stirring my chocolate milk with a straw.

Sans squints a bit, “What happened?”

“Let’s just say I put him in his place, and now we’ve got a guaranteed month of not worrying about him.”

“You think he’ll honor that?”

“If he doesn’t, then I’ll make him hurt.” 

A wariness settles in Sans’ eyes, as if he’s remembering that first time we fought Flowey. “Are you sure?”

I smirk a bit and finally explain the conversation I had with Flowey, emphasizing my curiosity about how sensitive he was about my mention of Chara. “I don’t know how he knows her, but there’s some sort of connection. The fact that he seemed so disturbed is what makes me think he’ll keep his distance.”

“They can’t be working together. Do you think she could be controlling him just to mess with us?” Sans asks.

“I doubt it,” I say, shrugging, feeling slightly defeated. I may have had a small sense of triumph, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still in the dark on so much information.

“Another list of questions to toss into the fire,” Sans smirks, sensing my frustration. “At least you scared him off for a while; hopefully you can do it again before the holidays.”

“I don’t know what kind of party trick I’ll have to use for that,” I say, finishing my chocolate milk when the door bangs open.

I look behind me to see Undyne marching up to our booth.

“Ah-hah! There you are,” she says, slamming her hands on the end of our table, pinning me with a stare. “I’m assigning you to Waterfall for the rest of the day.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s tradition for monsters to make wishes to the Echo Flowers a week before their birthdays. Legend has it, at least one will come true if you ask it in just the right manner. When it does, the flower turns white.”

“I can’t tell if you’re serious,” I say, squinting with suspicion, especially when I catch Sans holding back a smirk in the corner of my eye.

“I am, bestie! Now go to the flower fields and make some wishes!” she declares, pulling me out of the booth.

“I don’t even know where they are,” I say, grabbing Cody as Undyne slides into the booth.

“Gerson will show you if the River Person doesn’t show up. They’ve been a little distant lately.”

Gerson, the turtle the boys and I met that day we traveled through Waterfall to find home. I’ve only interacted with him once since then, when Undyne properly introduced us. Other than that, I still don’t know much about him other than he was one of Undyne’s mentors growing up.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re making it up just to get rid of me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at both Sans and Undyne.

“I promise it’s real, but also, yeah, I’m getting rid of you cuz your brother wanted to talk about next week.”

Sans tosses his hands up and drops them as if to say, “ _ Thanks for ruining the surprise _ .”

I sigh, “It better not be about what I think it is.”

“It isn’t,” Undyne clearly lies with a smug grin, “Now go! I command it as your Captain!”

I roll my eyes and wave goodbye, going along with it. If anything, I bet the fields of Echo Flowers are really pretty. I’d like to see some new parts of Waterfall.

I take the long way to get to Gerson’s hidden shop, not even bothering to wait for Roman. He’s been distant lately, but I’m hoping it means he’s just enjoying his newfound freedom. I’m genuinely curious if the flower wishing is indeed a real tradition. Gerson might lie just because of Undyne, but I have other questions for him, too. 

I walk with Cody trotting by my side, seemingly happy to go on another little adventure. Sometimes I genuinely want to talk with him through his SOUL, as I constantly wonder what he makes of all this. But the more I watch him, the more I realize he’s just content to go along with life. He has a family who loves him and a place where he belongs. In a dog’s mind, I guess that’s all you need to love life.

We make it to the Wishing Room and I stare up at the sparkling Ceiling Stars, the only ones in the Underground that are almost low enough that I could touch them if I had a ladder. I wonder why there are only five Echo Flowers in here when it’s apparently a designated place to wish for nonsense. Maybe it’s for day-to-day wishes and the fields are considered for “important occasions.” I walk past them, hearing nothing but the echoes of the distant waterfalls whisper from their petals.

It’s only when I’m about to walk down the hallway to the dock do I hear a voice. A voice I’ve heard before, but a feeling tells me it doesn’t belong to the same person.

**“What a fascinating journey you’ve had, little Perseverant.”**


End file.
